


Pawns and Players

by MegTheFireGoddess



Series: Copper and Shadow [5]
Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 02:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 45,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18228524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegTheFireGoddess/pseuds/MegTheFireGoddess
Summary: Rewrite of Realm of the Gods from Numair's POV with creative liberties taken.COMPLETE!





	1. Where Battles Are Fought

It seemed wherever Numair turned he was met with manifestations of the war between life and chaos. Perhaps war wasn’t the correct term. As Numair looked down upon the battle, he couldn’t help but think that war was something he could understand. It was abhorrent, but it adhered to a set of rules agreed upon by each side. The vicious immortals and rogue mages that attacked Tortall followed no such codes, they lived to kill or be killed. The string of battles colloquially known as the “Immortals War” could only be described as merciless chaos and, from atop the curtain wall, Numair could see that it had no visible end.

Port Legann was feeling the worst of it. The seaside fortress contained a functional city within its walls. It had grown vertically instead of outward over the last five decades, the pastel-colored buildings rising from between coastal hills to create a skyline that looked more like stacked toy blocks than the marvel of engineering it was. Yet the port blockade had taken its toll on the beautiful city. All the shops had been boarded up and most of the buildings were dark. Those who could flee the onslaught of immortals had left everything behind. Only soldiers dared to darken the streets, leaving the poorest souls to move through the alleys like starving ghosts.

The wheat stocks that would have kept the sprawling port city in bread became crushed under heavy boots and steel hooves and even the spring breeze, that should have whispered the promise of easier days, was heavy with the stench of smoke and blood.

Opposite the city, the bright blue water of the sea sprawled into the distance. The onyx fins of playful orcas cut through the waves and flashing silver scales told the tale of the merpeople. They had traveled down the coast to join Legann in its defense against the siege of Copper Island ships that loomed threateningly in the distance. The ships proudly displayed the flags of their often unstable country but the men that walked their decks wore no uniforms. They were privateers, pirates under the employ of the Copper Island government, meant to help destabilize Tortall and leave it ripe for invasion. If Legann fell then it would be a long time before Tortall’s economy recovered and even longer before the people could return home.

On the far side of the battle, a short man with close-cut brown hair threw green magefire with abandon. His yellow robe identified him as an adept mage from the University at Carthak but no properly trained mage melted the flesh from soldier’s bones with such glee.

Numair’s heart leaped to his throat as a hummingbird flitted past his ear, her feathers gently brushing against his shoulder. All the other birds had fled the destruction for the safety of the distant forest but the hummingbird remained unafraid, expertly dodging the over-large hands of flying gorillas as she descended into the pandemonium.

Shifting mid-flight, Daine flew directly into the mage’s face with a sharp beak that had no business on the body of a hummingbird. She stabbed at the mage’s eyes, blinding him. He cried out, falling to his knees and tearing at his bleeding eye sockets. A Tortallan soldier made short work of him after that, only to make way for further chaos.

Steel wings descended from the sky, reflecting the gruesome horrors back onto the soldiers below. Stormwings, terrifying fusions of man, metal, and bird, joined the fray to turn the tide in the enemy’s favor. Within mere moments, many brave men and women were torn apart by silver claws.

One stormwing’s smile was darker than the others’, turning victorious beneath cold green eyes. Unlike the mage, Ozorne had a logical motivation. To destroy everything Numair cared about.

Shaking off the metaphorical confines set before him by his king, Numair let his magic seep from him uninhibited. It slid into the pores of every enemy in reach, crawling across the battle like a plague to find the object of its ire. Stormwings were pulled apart from the inside, black and silver gore raining down on soldiers left standing in shock as the enemies they battled were consumed.

Ozorne’s emerald eyes flashed as they settled on Numair. With a dark expression, the lanky mage dared the thorn-crowned Stormwing to take the revenge he so desperately wanted. To finally put an end to the war between them that threatened to destroy the world.

Wheeling around, Ozorne brandished deadly silver claws as he dove for the mage. Numair made no moves to protect himself and just as Ozorne might have finally gotten his vengeance, he stopped. Ozorne’s features twisted into disgust and he roared, “Fight me!”

Numair never got the chance to comply before an ash-brown harpy eagle descended. With vicious claws, Daine-the-eagle tore chunks of flesh from Ozorne’s human torso. Then, just as Ozorne would have recovered to turn razor-sharp feathers on her, she changed into a sparrow and darted away.

Ozorne flapped his great wings and ascended out of range. The other Stormwings followed, leaving the other mythical beasts to be overrun.

Landing on the stones beside Numair, Daine waited for him to remove his cloak and drape it over her. Once covered, the harpy eagle changed to an eighteen-year-old girl with grey-blue eyes that flashed. Deceptively strong fingers clutched the cloak around her throat, shielding her naked form.

“That was reckless,” he told her chidingly but, as usual, she ignored him. Focusing on the battlefield behind him, she watched the skirmish slowly come to an end.

The fighting had become so commonplace that the soldiers moved mechanically, recovering the identification talismans from their fallen comrades’ before retreating back to the castle. Healers carried litters into the fray, triaging the injured with cold stoicism. Once all those who could be saved were moved (and quick deaths granted to those who could not) low-level battle mages strode forward in a perfect line to burn the battlefield clean with magefire. It was the best thing that could be done, giving the dead dignity rather than leaving them for the crows or rogue stormwings to desecrate.

Daine sighed and there was a tinge of tired sadness to the sound, but she didn’t put voice to the heartache in her expression. Instead, she turned back to him and let her fingers skim down the streak of grey that shot through his inky black hair- one of the many visible signs of all the fighting.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Daine asked.

Sighing heavily, Numair tilted his head toward the north tower, “It doesn’t matter. Come, magelet, lets get some rest while we can.”

Nodding, she took his hand and let him lead her back to their shared room.

 

TWO MONTHS LATER

A pair of silvery-blue eyes stared at him in naked terror as emerald fire slowly consumed his vision and seared his failure into his retinas- the gently rounded face becoming shadowed with bloodlust and painting her with vicious canine features. With one decision, he had turned her from a young woman to a creature of vengeance.

The ethereal mist of nightmare dissipated and Numair stood unbound on the sands.

“You keep dreaming about things like that and you’re gonna go mad.” The raspy voice had lost it’s bouncy quality, making the elderly woman who stood before him sound more like a sailor than a goddess. She leaned heavily on her ornate ebony walking stick, looking somehow even more downtrodden than the last time Numair had found her in his dreams.

“You make it sound as if I have a choice. If it were up to me, I would never step foot in this place again,” he told the Graveyard Hag, waving his long fingers to encompass his surroundings.

The marble pillars and larger-than-life statues inside the gladiatorial arena of Carthak brought to life the distant sounds of battle. While Ozorne and his army of immortals attacked Tortall, Carthak imploded from within. Slaves and vassal-states alike were rising up against the Empire in a demand for justice. The only bright side was that the arena had remained closed during the fighting. There was no room for simulated carnage when one just had to turn a corner to find it in reality.

Gnarled hands dismissed his anger, “I didn’t come here to argue with you. I came to warn you. Things are about to come to a head, so it’s time to change the odds.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Numair asked with a scoff.

The Graveyard Hag cackled but it was a mirthless and desolate sound, “That would be tellin’. Don’t you worry, my boy, I fully plan to have you make it through to the end. You only have to remember what you’re fighting for.”

“And what, pray tell, might that be?” he asked incredulously, determined to be obstinate while the goddess looked at him with that knowing smile.

“There is no point in asking a question when you only have to look at your magic to know the answer.”

Then, as if she had never been there in the first place, the goddess disappeared.

The dreaming mists returned and, standing alone on the blood-stained sands of the arena, the place where he would have been executed if Ozorne had gotten his way, a tingling sensation made his palms itch. Looking down at his hands, he found his magical gift dancing around his fingertips. Numair brought them up to eye-level, letting the black glow cast shadows across his sharp features. The pinpricks of silver light had long since been replaced by Daine’s coppery wild magic, a manifestation of just how entwined they had become.

Slowly, the flickering flames of power crawled up his arms and, in the magic’s wake, his flesh and bone turned to ash.

A soft whistling mixed with the crackling of his magic to banish his dream and reveal a pair of amber slit-pupil eyes set into a slender, reptilian face.

Numair wasn't sure if his surprised curse was meant to be a frustrated exasperation or an exclamation of gratitude. The cat-sized baby dragon residing on his chest was equally confused by his tone, chirping a contrite question which he answered as naturally as if she had spoken the common tongue, “It’s alright, little one, it's probably best you woke me.”

In truth, it was an excellent thing Kitten had woken him. His magical gift was buzzing across his skin like a swarm of angry bees, reacting violently to the turmoil of emotion the nightmare had brought forth. Numair brought it back into his control with a few meditative breaths.

A knock quickly ruined his attempt at calm, replacing it with a mumbled curse. Daine stirred beside him, rolling onto her back and huffing at the plaster ceiling with exasperation, “What is it now?”

Kitten scurried off Numair’s chest, allowing him to sit up, “I’ve got it. Go back to sleep.”

Daine purposely ignored him, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. With a long sigh, Numair went to the door. On the other side of the threshold stood Jeremi, holding a sealed letter in his thin fingers.

“A message from the king, Master Numair,” the squire said with a perfectly executed bow. For a moment, it struck Numair that the boy had grown up a lot in the months since the barrier fell. All his nervousness was gone, replaced with the confidence of a soldier. If not for his distinct auburn hair, he might have been a completely different person.

“Thank you,” Numair told the boy and took the letter. It was addressed to both himself and Daine which didn’t bode well for the relative peace they had enjoyed since arriving at Port Legann. Once the boy disappeared down the corridor, Numair closed the door and broke the seal with practiced ease. Quick eyes processed the letter as his lips alternated between a smirk and a frown.

“What are you smirking for?”

He peered at Daine over the edge of the parchment, “Jon still doesn’t quite know how to address us. In this one, he specifically calls you my ‘former student’. It’s been months but he, as will the rest of our well-meaning friends, seem to still have trouble defining-” he waved to encompass the small familial group in the room.

Daine shrugged, “Then what would you call us? You're the one with all the fancy words locked in your head.”

He chuckled, “Unfortunately, there isn't a word to properly define it. We sleep in the same bed, but we aren't married and we aren't exactly ‘lovers’. I like to think our relationship is more permanent than that.”

Not to mention the term “lover” usually denoted a sexual relationship, a subject Numair had become an expert at avoiding. Something inside him balked at the idea of obliterating the line that no teacher should ever cross. It felt like a betrayal of everything he had ever stood for. Not that his traitorous body didn’t crave her nearness more with every metaphorical step they took closer to each other.

“Well, until you come up with a better word, I suppose I’ll keep being your ‘former student’,” she told him casually, “What else does the message say?”

Numair sighed, “The Copper Islanders have moved in closer. It seems that this moment of peace will be just as short-lived as all the rest. All too soon we will be under siege.”

Daine moved to stand before him, her callused hands pulling the parchment from his long fingers and tossing it on the small desk. “It could be worse news. At least we’re ready for it this time.”

“You make a good point,” he managed to say before she twined her arms around his neck.

“If we aren’t being called right now, then we’ve got a few more moments of peace to enjoy.”

She urged him down for a soft kiss and, though Numair was more than happy to oblige, the show of affection deepened before either of them could think better of it. Sensing the intimate air around them, Kitten jumped down from the bed and whistled the two-note song that stood for Tkaa- the basilisk that was her teacher.

In the wake of the closing door, Daine pulled away from Numair with a chuckle, “I don’t think Kit knows what to think about us either. I think she’s glad we’re together but whenever we kiss she disappears faster than you can snap your fingers.”

Caught up in the feeling of her body pressed the length of his, Numair’s voice was gravelly as he told her, “Kitten will forgive us.”

His head dipped down once more to capture her lips. Her fingernails raked across his chest, causing a growl to escape his throat and vibrate across her tongue. She moaned in reply, gathering his shirt into her fists. With a strength he could hardly fathom, she hauled him back toward the bed. They fell together but, once he realized the position they were in, he broke their kiss to raise himself to his elbows. Part of him wanted to give in, to bury his objections in the haze of lust but his never-quiet mind wouldn’t allow it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, a worried frown twisting her bow-shaped lips.

Trying to lessen the sting of yet another rejection, he combed her curls back from her features, “We need to stop, sweetling. Before it goes too far.”

The expression she gave him would have been at home on a flirtatious court lady but looked somewhat disconcerting on his wild little magelet, “Would that be so bad?”

Pushing himself to his feet, Numair unconsciously pulled at his long nose in frustration, “I just think that we should discuss a few things more thoroughly before engaging in something that has the potential to complicate our relationship further.”

Smiling at a joke only she knew, she said, “Oh, I think I understand.”

“You do?” he asked, wary of her array of strange expressions which kept getting more disconcerting by the moment.

Nodding, Daine sat on the edge of the bed and unlatched the necklace that held her silver badger’s claw. Holding it up in the dawning light, she indicated a small gold circle attached to the clasp’s binding link. As a man that had more lovers than strictly moral, Numair knew a pregnancy charm when he saw one.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, his shock entirely consuming him.

She shrugged infuriatingly, “One of the midwives in Corrus. I sure as sugar wouldn’t trust the one here. She’s a gossiper.”

“Fair enough, but, uh, when?”

“Right before the Beltane after I turned sixteen. I’m not an idiot. Not that Ma was an idiot. Just, you know, better safe than sorry, right?”

Gaining control of the uncharacteristic objections that flitted through his mind, Numair took the chain from her and gently clasped it around her neck, hiding the unnerving charm from sight once more. She bit her lip when his fingers ghosted across her jugular, making his palms itch to illicit another such expression. Damn his contradictory nature; it was turning his thoughts into a battlefield where love warred against lust.

Forcing his hands to his sides, he desperately tried to maintain a certain amount of academic distance, “No one could ever accuse you of being impractical but it’s more than that.”

She got to her knees so she could frame his face with her calloused palms and look into the black voids of his eyes. “I want you for my mate. Don’t you want that too?”

“You have no idea how badly I want that,” he murmured as his resolve faltered, slowly dying like embers on a cold night, “But I don’t want to do this if you are only trying to find peace while you can.”

She tensed and, without the need for a confession, Numair knew he had found the truth. Trying to set her at ease once more, he let his knuckles fall down her cheek, “The first time we make love, it shouldn’t be about fear for tomorrow, it should be about, well, love. Otherwise, we are setting ourselves up for pain and that is the last thing I want. You mean more to me than that.”

“What if this war never ends?” she asked, a note of disgust in her voice as if she hated the very idea but was unable to keep from speaking it aloud.

“Nothing lasts forever,” he told her, something like hope seeping into his voice despite the double meaning of his words, “and I’m more than willing to wait because lust is easy but love is worth waiting for.”

Before Daine could put voice to the reluctant agreement that twisted through her grimace, another knock sounded at the door. Cursing, Daine went to open it.

Jeremi had returned but the confident boy who had delivered the letter was gone, leaving behind a frightened squire.

“Master Numair, Miss Daine, you’re needed on the west curtain wall! Apeians are attacking and they’ve gotta mage with ‘em!”

Daine didn’t acknowledge the squire’s words; she merely turned on her heel and went to retrieve her bow from where it waited in the corner.

Seeing this, Jeremi nodded and rushed off to his next task but the moment he was gone Daine stopped and let her arms fall to her sides wearily. Numair moved behind her, wrapping his long arms around her waist. Leaning back and closing her eyes, she took a moment of ecstasy from his embrace.

“This war needs to end soon,” she told him quietly.

“I wish it would, sweet. For everyone’s sake.”

 


	2. Where Promises Are Kept

Despite the gratuitous amount of magic he had used during the battle, Numair couldn’t find rest beside Daine. Not when she had fearfully murmured “Ozorne” and proceeded to toss and turn like she was reliving some terrible form of torture.

It was the mingling of guilt and frustration that made Numair seek refuge on the curtain wall where he could watch the sun rise across the waves, turning the distant ships into shadows.

“I gotta say, you look good when you’re brooding.”

Numair didn’t bother turning toward the teasing voice, or the second set of footsteps that accompanied it up to the roof of the western tower.

“I’m not really in the mood, Alanna.”

The red-haired knight stopped beside him, her amethyst eyes following his gaze out to the horizon, “Scanra and the Copper Islands have been after Tortall for years. Ozorne’s just using that to his advantage. You’re the excuse, not the cause.”

“That’s difficult to remember when Ozorne seems to follow me like a shadow,” replied Numair before meeting the female knight’s gaze, “He’s more than proven that he’ll gladly destroy the world if it means finally sending me to Oblivion.”

“What makes you say that?” asked the king from over Alanna’s shoulder, his black-bearded jaw clenching with concern for his people.

“No other country has been as inundated with vicious immortals as Tortall has, leading me to hypothesize that Ozorne destroyed the barrier between the realms. What other lengths would he go to in order to finally get his revenge?”

“You give yourself more credit than you deserve,” said Alanna, rolling her eyes.

Numair mimicked her expression, “You sound like Daine.”

“Good, that means I’m making sense.”

Ignoring her point, Numair focused his gaze on the king. Ever since the barrier had fallen, Jonathan’s shoulders had become weighted by the ghosts of each life taken by the immortals. When they had first met, Numair had been astounded by the friendly light in the king’s chiseled features and the humor that danced in his midnight blue eyes but as time went by he came to see the aging effect of being responsible for an entire kingdom.

“Were you looking for me?”

The king let out a jester’s sigh, “I was. I came to seek a second opinion. I’m sure you know that tonight is Beltane-” Jonathan stopped when Numair’s aloof expression changed to one of absolute bafflement, “Or perhaps you didn’t?”

Numair recovered, frowning down at the smooth stone walkway, “No, I’m afraid the calendar has been playing tricks on me. Seems like Imbolc is both far away and yet could have only occurred yesterday.”

“I’m not surprised. You can hardly keep time when you’re not wallowing in self-pity. This dolt on the other hand,” Alanna pointed an accusing thumb over her shoulder at the king, “thinks that we should cancel the rites. I told him the last thing we want to do is destroy what little morale we have left by denying the men and women the right to seek favor with the gods.”

“Surely a strategic mind like yourself sees the danger in allowing a night of drunken revelry,” argued Jonathan.

Numair cut in when Alanna opened her mouth to retort, effectively ending the disagreement, “I agree with Alanna. Denying the people a night to remind themselves what they are fighting for would be wrong.” The knight crossed her arms and settled back onto her hip arrogantly but Numair shredded her victory banner by turning back toward the horizon and saying, “Though, given recent events, it would be unwise to let our guard down. I suggest asking for volunteers to man the walls for the night and keep the libations to a minimum. Beyond that, I can remain on the walls during the festivities, that way, if anything happens, I can shield the fortress. At least until we can mobilize a proper defensive.”

Alanna’s arms fell to her side, her lips set into a thin line, “What about Daine?”

“What about her?”

Scowling, Alanna pulled Numair around so that he was forced to see the temper reddening her rounded features, “Someone around here should be able to spend Beltane with the person they love.”

Stunned, if not a little heartbroken, Numair said, “George will return soon.”

“He better,” she replied angrily, “or I might just tear down the walls before those pirates get the chance.”

“That said-” Jonathan begin but, before he could argue to the logic of Numair’s plan, Jeremi crested the top of the stairs.

“Your majesty!”

“Yes, my boy?”

Jeremi stopped a few feet from the gathered adults, bracing his hands against his thighs as he answered between gasps, “There’s a man in the courtyard. He’s from Greenhall. He says that they found what was causing the ruckus. It’s some kinda immortal but no one knows its like.”

Turning on his heel, Numair started back toward the north tower, only stopping when Alanna called out to him, “Where are you going?”

“To get Daine. If we’re lucky, we can be back before the Beltane rights start.”

Alanna glared at Numair’s back, “You’d better or I’ll drag you back by your ear. Then you’ll celebrate, you damned fool. So help me.”

Bowing his head in mocking acknowledgment of her half-realized threat, he continued on.

***

“Kit?”

Daine was the only one who called the little dragonet that and, as a reflex, Kitten turned her amber eyes toward the lilting sound of her mama’s voice. Mama was searching among the bales of hay and newly laid rushes but she would never find Kitten if she didn’t want to be seen. The dragonet started to whistle the invisibility spell papa had taught her but Spots, the black and white speckled gelding Numair usually rode, disrupted her concentration by pushing her with his nose. _Why are you trying to hide?_

She could not answer him in the animal-voice, meaning she had to resort to charades to make him understand. Thankfully the horse was smart, reading Kitten’s waving paws as easily as Numair read Thaki hieroglyphs. Still, the signed language left some room for misunderstanding.

_Don’t be silly. Numair isn’t with her and she looks worried._

Kitten shook her head, attempting to explain why she was avoiding her adopted parents. Ever since Carthak, things between them had changed. The princess, Kally, had tried to tell Kitten it was because they would one day be like aunt Alanna and uncle George, but they were slow at getting there. Kally had said to give them time and Kitten was doing her best to. Still, she wasn’t known for her patience.

Spots nosed Kitten again but when she remained hidden behind the stable trough, he lifted his head over the gate. _She’s over here._

 _Traitor,_ Kitten thought toward the horse uselessly.

“Tkaa said you’d be here but why are you hiding?” Daine asked Kitten from beyond the gate, putting her hands on her hips and smirking.

 _She thought you and stork-man needed time alone,_ said Cloud, the shaggy pony who was boarded in the stall beside Spots’.

“Well, I guess that was true,” Daine replied as she opened the stall but instead of scooping Kitten up, she waved Spots out.

 _Are we going somewhere?_ Spots asked even as he started toward the yard.

“There’s some trouble in a village. The king’s asked me and Numair to look into it,” Daine looked down at Kitten, “it sounds fair dangerous. It might be best if you stayed with Tkaa.”

The chirped answer was a resounding “no”. Kitten didn’t like being left behind, especially when mama and papa thought it might be dangerous. If she was with them she could help but if she was left behind she could do nothing but worry. The dragonet had already lost enough friends and family, she wouldn’t lose her mama and papa too.

“I knew you’d say that,” Daine told Kitten and finally scooped the dragonet into her arms, “you’re about as stubborn as Numair.”

 _What are you waiting for?_ Said Cloud, interrupting Kitten mid-retort, _let me out of this stall so I can get the little stable girl to saddle me._

“Not this time, Cloud. I’m going to fly so that I can make sure we aren’t walkin’ into a trap.”

_Don’t be silly, you can’t just leave me behind._

“Sorry, but Numair’ll have to leave under an invisibility spell, so Ozorne’s spies don’t know we’ve gone. You’ll have to stay here.”

_Fine, but you best warn Stork-man that if you get hurt again that I’ll smash his toes._

Daine chuckled, “I’ll let him know. Come on, Kit. We’d best get on the road.”

Once Spots was saddled and Kitten was safely in her travel bag, they met Numair at the main gate. Kitten whistled a greeting to him but he barely acknowledged it before frowning at Daine. “Do you think bringing Kitten along is such a great idea? We don’t know what we will find in Greenhall.”

“You can to try to stop her if you’d like. You know how hard it is to make her do what she don’t want.”

Numair cut his eyes in mama’s direction, concern flashing in their black depths, “While that is a very valid point, my argument remains valid as well.”

Daine merely shrugged, “The way I figure it, we’d be better off bringin’ Kit along. She can handle the invisibility spell so that you don’t have to use your magic. If what that villager said was true, we’re prolly gonna need you at your best.”

Though he was still skeptical, Numair was quick to offer a compromise. Pinning Kitten with a severe expression, his voice promised that she would be going a month without sweets if she didn’t heed his words, “Listen very carefully, little one. If your mother or I tell you to do something, you must do it without hesitation. That means if we tell you to leave us behind, you must. Do you understand?”

Kitten didn’t like the idea of leaving mama and papa but she nodded because she knew it would make Numair feel better. He must have known her reasoning though because one corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk, “I’ll need your word, sweetling.”

Kitten raised her paw in oath and his smirk turned into a soft smile, “Thank you.”

Spots nosed Numair’s arm, _Don’t worry. I’ll look after her._

Daine didn’t need to repeat Spot’s words, Numair understood perfectly and showed his appreciation by retrieving a sugar cube from his trouser pocket.

Satisfied everything was in order, Daine transformed into an eagle and ascended into the sky. Numair watched her go, his breath catching unconsciously as she disappeared over the wall.

Kitten cooed softly, trying to comfort him but he pasted on a false smile and ran his hand down her long neck, “She’ll be fine. After all, Spots can hear her so there’s no need to worry.”

The horse flicked his ears back and forth in agreement, _Of course. She hasn’t gone far._

If only her papa understood the meaning behind Kitten’s sounds he would know that she wasn’t worried for Daine’s safety, she knew her mama could take care of herself, it was the sadness weighing down his shoulders that had her worried.

 

 

They rode for what seemed like forever. Every so often, Kitten would catch Numair staring toward the sky as if entranced. Not that she could blame him. In her animal forms, Daine was always a sight to behold. Her silver-brown feathers caught the bright spring sunlight making her almost glow with power. It was close to the way the Graveyard Hag had looked when Kitten met her in Carthak but looking at the elderly goddess had been like staring into the sun. Her mama was more like winter moonlight, gentle and beautiful.

It was nearly dusk when Spot’s ears flicked forward and he took off into a full gallop. Kitten could have sworn she heard Numair’s heart stop as he gripped the saddle and started searching the skies for any sign of Daine.

Spots emerged from the trees just in time for Kitten to see an eagle fall toward the blackened earth of a desolate field.

“Daine!” Numair cried, and reached out with his magic to slow her descent. She quickly recovered, spreading her wings and breaking away from his shadowy gift to ascend back into the sky. Wheeling around, she glided toward them to land on the ground near Spot’s hooves.

Numair pulled a cloak from one of Spot’s packs and laid it over Daine’s eagle-form. As soon as she was human again, he pulled her into his arms. “Gods, are you alright?”

She nodded and backed away from him, a fierce determination overtaking her features as she moved to pull the rest of her clothes from the pack, “I lost control of my magic. Those things, whatever they are, they aren’t immortals. They’re something else.”

“Can we beat them?”

Daine’s answer came after she had dressed and returned to standing before Numair, holding out her hand. His head fell, “That’s really bad.”

“We don’t have time,” she told him gently and tried to soften him with a smile that remained confined to her lips.

With a sigh, Numair visibly locked his feelings behind a mask of cold calculation and took her hand. Daine’s coppery wild magic flowed into him, merging with his gift to become a dominant force of bronze magic. Pulling her hand from his, Daine plucked Kitten from her travel bag and set her on the ground before retrieving her bow and quiver from Spot’s saddle.

“Give me your quiver,” said Numair and Daine did with no questions asked. Questions were for others. They knew each other too well for them.

When Numair handed it back, the waiting arrows were glowing faintly. Daine slung it across her back, turning toward the horizon. "They’re coming.” 

Numair quickly followed suit, placing himself slightly forward so that he could magically shield Daine and Kitten if he needed to.

Daine drew a magicked arrow from her quiver and notched it. Kitten watched with familiar awe as her mama brought the fletching toward her cheek in a motion so fluid it seemed like the bow was a part of her. She loosed and Kitten followed the trajectory toward her target.

Five creatures walked in a perfect battle line, dead grass crunching beneath their feet in a steady cadence. The creatures were something from a nightmare, flesh-colored human forms that seemed to be made of wet clay. They had no defining features; no eyes to see, no noses to smell, no ears to hear, and no mouths to breathe.

As expected, Daine’s arrow embedded itself in the center creature. Numair closed his fist and the arrow exploded, blowing the creature to pieces. For a moment, it seemed as if Daine had overestimated the danger until the bits shifted and reformed into five new monsters that fell in line with the others.

“Mithros, Minos, and Shaketh. Kitten, use the stone-whistle,” papa said without looking at her, his frantic eyes darting between the monsters as they drew closer. Kitten let out the whistle Master Tkaa had taught her, careful to keep her focus on the center creature. It shivered, its skin turning to stone for only a moment before becoming flesh-colored once more.

Numair took in the monster’s reaction to the dragonet’s magic with frantic eyes, mumbling strategies and discarding them in quick succession. Finally, he whispered an apology to the people of the village and called upon the earth itself. A fissure opened, sending the monsters into a shallow grave.

Then the ground rumbled.

Ten hands broke through the dirt, reaching toward the sky in a call for salvation that was quickly granted as the creatures burst from the ground like corn stalks.

That was when the gravity of the situation settled on Kitten. She looked to her mama for comfort but Daine kept her wide eyes on the monsters, unconsciously retreating from the advance. Reacting to her uninhibited fear, a dozen tiny grassland finches dove from the tree to disorient the creatures. One bird went for a monster's blank face but as soon as its feathers brushed skin, the flesh was stripped from its bones.

Daine choked on a sob and Numair automatically reached out to steady her as her knees threatened to buckle. Her fingers went white as she clutched at his arm and clawed at her chest, trying to make the empathic agony stop. She barely managed to find some secret well of strength, funneling it into her wild magic. As one, the flock of finches returned to the trees.

Still shaking but recovering, Daine murmured, “Unmagic my arrows.”

Numair didn’t hesitate to comply.

Finding her feet, Daine notched and fired in rapid succession, fury in every draw, but the arrows simply melted into the creatures, becoming one with their flesh and doing nothing to slow their advance.

Numair stopped her next shot with a gentle hand, “Daine, we can’t just throw things at them; we have to break them down.” From his tone, he knew how but the consequences could be dire.

Daine cursed but gestured to the creatures, “Just try not to kill yourself.”

Numair’s head spun in Kitten’s direction and Daine understood without the need for words. She scooped the little dragon up and placed her back into her travel bag.

Muttering another apology to unknown parties, Numair murmured the word of power to turn an object to water. The bronze power ripped in two under the force of the spell, one part made of copper sparkling with silver and the other black dotted with copper stars. Numair doubled over, near-to retching as his skin turned grey and a sheen of cold sweat painted over his brow.

In the wake of such a display, painful shocks flowed over Kitten’s scales and she cried out.

Only five of the creatures were affected, melting into puddles while the other five creatures shuddered and kept moving.

Numair couldn’t hear it but Kitten would remember the fear in her mama’s animal-voice for centuries. _Spots, take Kit back to Legann. We’re going to need help._

Kitten whistled her protest but, “You promised,” was all Daine had to say to make her silent.

Spots took off into the forest but Kitten did not care about what might lay ahead. Her focus was locked behind her.

Two of the monsters melted into the ground and reformed behind her adopted parents, encircling them and leaving no escape. The last Kitten saw of them was the look of selfless terror on their faces before they became lost in a sea of pale clay.

The dragonet knew the instant their magic left the world, stealing all the warmth from her bones, but Kitten's stubborn heart refused to believe she had lost her family.


	3. Where Discoveries Are Made

There was intense pressure, like being forced through a small tube, but just when the agony would have become unbearable, it released.

Blinking, Numair found he was standing in a small cottage and a single thought whispered through his mind right before darkness consumed him. The Black God’s realm looked quaint. Daine would like it.

When Numair’s eyes fluttered open again, he was looking at the warm hues of a timbered ceiling, it seemed to glow with unknown magics so bright it made him blink rapidly until his pupils finally adjusted to it.

Unconsciously, his hand flexed, looking for the lifeline he had held during his last moments of mortality. When he came up empty, he bolted upright and was immediately overcome with vertigo.

After dry heaving until his throat was sore, he searched the room.It was a simple affair, unplastered wood walls decorated with framed depictions of the forest that paled in comparison to the reality outside the window. A clay-tiled floor was carpeted with braided rugs and a light breeze picked at lace-bordered curtains. It swept over his sweat-drenched skin, sending a chill down his spine.

He was dead. He had to be. There was no way even his overactive imagination could come up with such a place.

No, he was in too much pain to be dead. His bones felt like they were on fire and his head was being consistently stabbed with sharp agony. But, if he wasn’t dead, then where was Daine? Was she alive? His gift reacted violently to the questioning thought, reaching out in a hundred directions to find the wild magic it needed like air.

The door opened and a woman in a mint-green gown flew into the room. A mass of satiny gold curls, adorned with tiny white flowers, framed a face that poked painfully at his memory.  “Master Numair! You really shouldn’t be using your magic! You’ll burn yourself out in a heartbeat!”

“Where is Daine?” he croaked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and trying to force his spindly legs to bear his weight.

The woman caught him as he buckled with gentle but deceptively strong arms, urging him back toward the bed, “She’s fine. She’s in the room ‘cross the hall, still sleepin’.”

The shadowy magic collapsed back into him and he fell heavily onto the mattress, his head dropping into his palms as the room began to spin, “But those creatures-”

“Are gone. The badger took care of ‘em,” the woman said cheerily as if she were speaking about midsummer festivities rather than dark and devastating creatures. “You should rest. The journey was hard on both of you.”

He ignored her suggestion in favor of focusing on her latter statement, “Where are we?”

“The Divine Realm, of course!” she lifted his head with gentle fingers and began pulling at his eyelids. Just as a healer would. Frowning, she asked him, “What’s your birth name?”

It was a test; she was checking his mental faculties for signs of damage.

“I would have thought such questions unnecessary in the Realm of the Gods,” he replied.

The woman shrugged, “Old habits die screamin’. I figure, why fight ‘em? It’s not like it’s any harm.”

“Your daughter talks just like that,” he said, his thoughts moving too quickly for him actually to keep pace with them, “But Daine told me you died.”

Daine’s mother smiled and replied so matter-of-factly that Numair wondered if she was joking, “I did. Her da brought me here from the Black God’s Realm.”

“Daine’s father,” he murmured, his cascading thoughts passing through his mind like liquid. “Is a god?”

“Yes, the god Weiryn. Hobs bobs! You’ve gone pale! Here, let me get you something to dull the pain. Those words of power really are vile things. You shouldn’t use ‘em so willy-nilly.” Numair only became truly aware of her words when a cup was thrust into his hand. He stared down at the brownish-green liquid inside as if it was poison.

“Oh, come now, Master Numair, it might smell foul but it will help. I promise!”

He was vaguely aware of the acidic taste as he let the potion fall down his throat. A sense of numbness fell over him almost immediately.

“There you are. Oh, but you’re still awful pale. You really shouldn’t have tried to get up, you silly man.”

“The resemblance is uncanny,” he muttered before asking, “Can I see her?”

Her smile was gentle, blue eyes sparkling with affection, “Of course but just for a moment. You do need to rest.”

“I will, I just-”

“I know, dear, come on.”

She helped him stand and led him across a vast hall toward a door of solid pine. When it opened on its own, all his chaotic thoughts were banished and his heart started to race in his chest.

It was a scene he knew intimately; Daine’s curls spreading across the white pillow like vines across plaster, her soft lashes resting gently against her cheeks, her bow-shaped lips parted ever so slightly. He might have thought they were back in the tower, finally sleeping after so long at war, except that she glowed with soft silver light. No, this was not a scene from his memory. He was looking at Daine, and she was beautiful.

“You see? She’s alright,” said Sarra. Daine’s mother’s name was pulled from his mind like a fish from an ocean, brought to him by the memory of Daine’s words as she explained the perceived shame of her surname. Sarrasri- Sarra’s daughter.

She wasn’t just Sarra’s daughter, though. She was Weiryn’s too.

“Yes,” he said, turning away from the scene with a sigh of defeat, “Thank you.”

The woman’s brow furrowed at his academic tone but he couldn’t find it within him to explain. Mechanically, he walked back to the room he had woken up in and lowered himself onto the bed.

Sarra followed him, her frown going deeper as she watched him bury his head in his palms, “Is something wrong, Master Numair?”

“Wrong? No.” There were far more apt synonyms. Profane, blasphemous, and sacrilegious, just to name a few.

“She’s still the same person,” Sarra said softly, as if he had spoken aloud.

Though Numair was a little taken aback by her response, he found his reply slipping past the lump in his throat, “Far be it from me to argue. I’m only mortal after all.”

Numair tried not to read too much into Sarra’s sad sigh, ignoring the way the door softly clicked closed to leave him alone with his thoughts.

Yet it wasn’t long before Daine’s voice stifled Numair’s increasingly masochistic musings beneath a blanket of worry. Her voice was pitched with something close to fear and it dragged him across the hall before he could think better of it.

Daine was awake and sitting up in the bed, the silver sheen gone. Numair could almost believe he had imagined her divinity. That was, if not for the man standing at the foot of her bed. He was dark-skinned and wearing only a loincloth of deer fur, leaving the entirety of his sinewy body exposed. Numair would have stood half a foot taller than him if not for the set of antlers that grew from his dreadlocked brown hair.

“Daine?” Numair asked as he braced himself against the doorframe, concerned by the way she stared blankly at the god.

Her grey-blue eyes turned to him and went wide. The plea in her gaze drew him forward but before he could move to comfort her, Sarra had stepped into his path with her hands on her hips.

“Really, Master Numair? Do you find it so impossible to stay in one place?” She made him sit at the end of Daine’s bed, “Ugh! Now, stay there please!”

Thoroughly admonished, he let his head fall in a show of agreeance before passing Daine a sideways expression of concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, keeping his voice light despite the way both her proximity and distance figuratively killed him.

“I’m sore,” she replied honestly.

He pasted on a smirk, “Its possible the journey to the divine realm might have had an adverse effect.”

“How did we get here?” she asked him.

“Your soul was imperiled by a foe you could not fight,” said Weiryn, “So we brought you here and this MORTAL MAN was connected to you so we were forced to bring him as well.”

The fact that Weiryn was glaring at him was not lost on Numair but he pointedly ignored it. He was extremely aware of the fact that he did not belong there, he didn’t need the god to remind him.

“I’m just thankful that those creatures attacked during the holiday, so we could bring you through,” said Sarra, utterly oblivious to the fact that while Numair had ignored Weiryn’s insult, Daine had not. It was only the harsh light blooming through the open window that kept Daine from retorting. Casting the room in an alarming red, the light pulsed a few times before fading.

“Oh, no,” said Sarra, “They’re at it again.”

“What’s going on?” Numair asked, lurching to his feet on the impulse to investigate.

“Would you SIT?” He did and Sarra pointed a warning look at him, “Ugh, SO stubborn you are!”

“You have no notion,” Daine muttered under her breath.

“And you have no room to talk,” he grumbled in reply.

Weiryn waved at the window as if the lights were nothing but a pest, “The great gods are fighting Uusoae, The Queen of Chaos.”

“She’s been at it since midwinter,” said Sarra sadly.

Weiryn glanced at his lover, affection brightening his emerald eyes as he moved to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Yes, normally our skies are only lit by your mundane mortal wars but this is far more important.”

“Speaking of wars,” said Sarra, her tone becoming chiding, “Daine, I never raised you to be fighting and killing! That’s not woman’s work!”

“It’s needful, Ma,” Daine replied, her chin rising, “YOU taught me that a woman has to know how to defend herself.”

“I never!” Sarra pressed a hand to her chest in high offense.

Daine’s eyes snapped fire, “You taught me that when you were killed in your own home!”

In the face of Daine’s pained words, Numair let go of all his misgivings to place a comforting hand on her ankle. She visibly relaxed at his touch which only seemed to ignite Weiryn’s temper.

“You would embolden her to speak to her mother so?” Weiryn demanded.

“Don’t you speak to him that way, Da!” Daine yelled before Numair could stop her, “I say only what’s true and from my own mind!”

“I will speak to him as I wish!” Weiryn bellowed in return, completely ignoring the latter half of Daine’s statement in favor of his continued hatred for Numair. “What right does a mortal man have to touch MY DAUGHTER with such familiarity!”

Numair snatched his hand away, the truth of Weiryn’s words settling on him like a dark cloud. “None.”

Daine reached toward him but he stood and pasted on a smile. “You should try to get some rest.”

“Stay,” she pleaded.

“I can’t,” he told her and turned away from those vulnerable grey eyes to walk through the open door, leaving a piece of his heart behind him.


	4. Where Comfort is Found

In the study at Port Legann, Numair was little more than an apparition. He lifted his hand to the bookshelf, watching his ghostly hand pass through the leather-bound volumes and wondered at the magic that would place him there at that moment.

Then he heard King Jonathan’s voice from somewhere behind him, “We’ll keep looking, but it’s most likely that they were killed along with the others. The bodies we found were indistinguishable.”

Numair spun at the sound of Kitten’s wail. The natural powder-blue iridescence of the dragonet’s scales had dulled to a grey tone that spoke to her mood almost as much as the way her head drooped toward the floor.

The basalisk, Tkaa, stood on two legs with his head bowed in grief. He held his long lizard tail in the crook of his elbow but it might as well have been the weight of a mountain on his arm with the way he seemed unable to bear it.

One of his white, slit-pupil eyes cast concern on the dragonet that sat near his feet. He reached down to offer comfort but Kitten shrunk away, darting from the room before anyone could think to stop her.

“Will she be alright?” Jonathan asked the basilisk, watching the place where Kitten had disappeared with pain darkening his midnight blue eyes.

Tkaa’s hissed a sigh, “Perhaps, in time, but losing one’s mother and father is hard, especially while so young.”

Jonathan’s shoulders fell, his kingly demeanor crushed under the weight of every death that plagued his conscience, “You’ll look after her?”

Tkaa nodded, “For now, but I believe Daine wished for Kitten to be taken to Mistress Onua in the event of her and Master Numair’s death.”

“I’ll send word to her but she is still supporting the Fifth Rider Group in the coastal hills. It will be some time before she will be able to make the journey here.”

A sharp chirp made Numair bolt upright, half-hoping that Kitten would appear and render the dream a dark figment of his imagination. Instead, a familiar bird was perched on the bedpost.

She was beautiful, her silver feathers refracting the afternoon light across the cottage-like room like a gemstone. Her long tail feathers fell toward the floor, draped along the bedpost like the lace train of a lady’s gown.

“Hello, pretty bird,” he said but nothing could erase the sadness from his tone. His head falling into his hands, he tried to think past the pain in his chest. Kitten thought they were dead and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

The sunbird fluttered over to land on his shoulder, preening his hair in an attempt to comfort him. When he did not react, she rubbed her head against his cheek and cooed softly.

"I’m sorry, I’m happy to see you, but I wish that dream had been a mere nightmare,” he told her.

“I see you made a friend.”

Numair stiffened and found Daine watching at him from the doorway. Sensing his discomfort, Preet’s feathers ruffled, but Numair smoothed them back down almost absently.

“Feeling better?” Daine asked and stepped further into the room, her crimson gown whispering across the floor.

It was apparent Daine hadn’t chosen the gown herself, it was far too extravagant for her tastes and in one of her least favorite colors. The bodice alone was something that would have irked her as it was laced up the back and was therefore impossible to put on herself. Even in Carthak, where slaves would be made available to help her dress, she had insisted that her wardrobe was made up of dresses she could put on by herself. The fact that she was barefoot only confirmed Numair’s suspicions because if there was anything Daine hated more that extravagant dresses it was impractical shoes. The observation relaxed him, subconsciously reminding him that in many ways she was still her sensible self.

He smirked, “I believe I will survive.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Daine scoffed.

When she came to stand a few feet away from Numair, Preet puffed out her chest defensively and started a stream of rude twitters.

“Preet, that’s quite enough,” he told the sunbird in a half-hearted reprimand but Preet continued her tirade in the avian equivalent of a mutter.

Daine just smirked, “She talks just like you. All long words.” Then she suddenly frowned and looked forlornly out the window. “Kitten will prolly sound the same when she gets old enough to mind-speak.”

Struggling to contain the sadness her words thrust on him, Numair closed his eyes, “She thinks we’re dead.”

“I know,” Daine replied, collapsing onto the bed beside him in shared emotional agony.

“We should-” he swallowed, struggling to force out the words that burned his tongue, “we should ask your parents if there is a way to bring Kitten here.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to ask if there’s a way to get back to her?”

Unable to organize his thoughts while Daine watched him warily, he stood to brace his hands against the windowsill, upsetting Preet in the process. Perturbed, the sunbird fluttered over to perch on the bedpost again. “If the Divine Codex is correct, you could live here and, as an immortal, Kitten could stay with you.”

“Don’t you mean ‘stay with us’?” she breathed, already knowing what his answer would be before he spoke it.

“I’m mortal, Daine, and the Divine Codex is very specific about the fates of mortals who attempted to overstay their welcome in the Realm of the Gods. I- I think I should return alone.”

“How can you say that!” she nearly yelled, her fists clenching at her sides.

He took a steadying breath, forcing himself back to the safety of logic, “Daine, please try to look at it from my perspective. Those creatures in Greenhall would have killed us if your parents hadn’t intervened. If you remained here, at least I would know you were safe.”

“What about you?” she asked, moving to stand before him and placing her hand directly over his heart. The traitorous organ answered her, pounding against his ribs. “Who’s going to look out for you if I’m not there?”

Numair let out a long sigh, having no answer that would satisfy her, "You could stay here with your mother. I know you’ve missed her.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t but she doesn’t need me, Tortall does. You do.”

Her words settled in his stomach like a stone because they were true. He hated how true they were,  but it would be selfish to drag her back into a war that had nearly killed them more times than he could count. “Wouldn’t you at least consider it?”

“Would it make you feel better if I did?” she asked, trying to smile at him but the expression was flat.

“Honestly? No, but you’re refusal doesn’t make me feel any better either.”

Daine brushed the single lock of silver hair from his forehead, “I love you, silly man. That’s why I won’t.”

“Must you be so ridiculously obstinate?” he asked her amidst an exhale of defeat.

She grinned, “Yes and there isn’t a long word in the world that’ll change my mind, so why don’t you give it up and come eat some lunch?” Wrinkling her nose, she let her hand scrape down the stubble on his cheek, “Though you might want to shave first.”

There was a clatter and they both looked toward the sound to find a dresser had appeared against the far wall. On top of it were the tools required for doing just as Daine suggested.

“I hate that,” said Daine with a grimace, “I can’t shift but I can do things like that. I feel like I have to watch what I think or I’ll set something afire.”

“You can’t shift?”

She shook her head, “I tried but my magic is acting...strange. It feels the same but ma said my magic acts differently here. It didn’t make much sense when she tried to say why. I don’t like it.”

He smiled despite how unnerving it was, “Is that why you would resign yourself to being barefoot rather than manifest yourself a pair of sensible shoes?”

“No, I just didn’t think of it,” she replied a little defensively before looking down at the floor. A pair of soft leather boots appeared before her, seemingly pulled from the air. Daine frowned before stepping into them. “Ma said that I can only do this in da’s lands. Makes me wanna run and see how far I have to be before I start to feel normal again.”

Hiding a frown, he went to the dresser and pulled open a drawer. When he saw what was inside, he pulled open a second drawer and found the same type of garment. It was only curiosity that made him check the third drawer but when the result was the same, he found himself chuckling, “Uh, sweetling, you might want to try again.” He pulled out a white linen shirt, an exact copy of the one she had co-opted back in Carthak. “I can see why you chose this particular garment but, unlike you, I cannot wear it alone.”

She scuffed her new boots on the floor, keeping her eyes downcast, “Hobs bobs.”

The shirts in the drawer changed to trousers of black and differing shades of grey. He opened the top drawer and found shirts in varying colors and styles. Only the shirt in his hand remained the same kind she favored.

He offered it to her. “Why don’t you keep this one?”

Shaking her head, she smirked at him sheepishly, “It’s not the same. It doesn’t smell like you.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I can see how that might make a difference.”

Stepping back to the dresser, he took off the shirt he was wearing and pulled on the new shirt before turning back around and holding out his arms in a flourish. “How long do you suppose I’ll have to wear it before it makes a sufficient nightdress?”

She laughed and moved across the room to wrap her arms around him, taking a deep breath through her nose, “I don’t know but I’m looking forward to wearing it in the future.”

Numair’s arms automatically enfolded her. It was hard for him to remember that she was a god’s child when she felt so familiar in his embrace. Touching her should have felt like a sin rather than a comfort, but his doubtful mind was banished when she lifted herself on her tiptoes and pulled him down for a kiss.

It took all of his considerable self-control to break away from her, “You should go spend some time with your mother.”

She backed away from him reluctantly, “Alright, you win this one, silly man.”

“Finally,” he replied sarcastically, pulling a laugh from Daine that echoed through his soul long after the door had closed behind her.


	5. Where Mirrors Speak

After dressing, shaving, and brushing his hair back into a horsetail, Numair left the room with Preet perched on his shoulder. The smell of baked goods drew him toward the kitchen where Sarra was peeling apples at a large table carved from a single piece of wood. Preet quickly abandoned him in favor of pecking at the apple peels, landing on the table beside a very familiar badger.

“You missed lunch,” said Sarra with a smile and wiped her hands on her apron before moving toward the stove where a plate waited, “I saved you some though. You must be hungry.”

“I am, thank you.”

Sarra set the simple porcelain plate across from the Badger-god and waved for Numair to take a seat. He did and reveled in the wonderful smell of fresh bread, wild rice, and pheasant. When he took a bite, he found it tasted even better than the aroma suggested.

“Wow, this is wonderful,” Numair exclaimed past a discourteous mouthful, “You are an amazing cook!”

“I’m glad you like it,” Sarra replied, blushing slightly. Preet chirped a question at the reaction and Sarra smiled down at the bird as she returned to peeling apples, “Yes, you silly little bird.” Glancing at Numair, she said, “Preet is fair clever.”

“I assume the messages she brought were from you?” Numair asked, forcing himself to slow his eating to a polite pace and not speak through his food like a barbarian.

Sarra nodded, “You did well when you raised her.”

“From you, that means a lot.”

“It shouldn’t,” Sarra replied with a laugh, “I’m afraid I raised a very stubborn daughter.”

 _That kit was born willful and came by it naturally,_  grumbled the Badger. Inside of Numair’s head, his voice sounded a bit prideful.

“Speaking of, where is-”

S _he decided to go for a walk_ , said the badger, knowing full well what Numair was about to ask.

“Alone?”

“Unfortunately,” said Sarra, “She said she needed to clear her head after she and Weiryn went a row about her return to the mortal realm. I don’t like it but, well, you know how she listens when she’s angry.”

Numair sighed, “That might have been my fault. I put forth the idea that I should return without her.”

The badger huffed, _That explains a lot. Foolish mortal._

“That’s hardly fair, badger,” said Sarra, “Weiryn and Numair just wish for Daine to be safe. Right?”

“Yes, well, it seems that my reasons mattered very little,” said Numair, his frustration coming through in his tone, “She refused and I’m afraid that nothing will make her see sense.”

 _Sense?_ said the Badger incredulously, _There’s nothing sensible about her staying here. This is not where she belongs._

“I’m not sure I understand,” Numair replied with a furrowed brow, “Surely YOU would want her to stay where she would be safe?”

The badger scowled at him in animalistic fashion, _Do you really think she’s safer here?_

“Why wouldn’t she be?”

Eyeing the mage, the badger spoke in a low tone that conveyed the grave nature of his words, _Tell me_ Master Mage _, what happens to mortals that die in the Divine Realms?_

Ice crystallized in Numair’s veins as he started to remember his studies of ancient myth, “The Black God cannot enter the divine realm.”

_Exactly. If she dies here, she will face the same fate as any other mortal. Doomed to Oblivion._

Numair felt his heart stop. He couldn’t think of a worse fate for Daine. She detested cages of any form and that was the worst one imaginable. Oblivion was a place where nothing existed; there was no escape. No beginning, no end, no time.

The badger turned his scowl on Sarra, _That is why she cannot stay here! She must return to where she belongs!_

Sarra sighed heavily, “I agree with you, Badger, but there’s little else we could do when those things attack them, so until we speak to the great gods-”

Weiryn efficiently shut down the conversation when he ducked through the front door with a vicious curse on his lips. If the god had seemed angry last time the mortal mage was in his presence, he was positively livid as he walked further into the cottage.

“What’s wrong, my love?” asked Sarra but Weiryn didn’t need to answer as Daine came in behind him, smeared with mud and fuming.

Before Numair could repeat Sarra’s question, Daine rushed toward the back of the cottage mumbling that she needed to get cleaned up.

“Don’t bother being concerned, mortal, she killed the tauros that hunted her.” Weiryn’s voice went proud for a heartbeat before turning searing, “Took the bow from my hand and shot it through the heart but instead of celebrating the kill, she got angry. Lamenting the fact that the tauros only preys on mortal females because they have no mates of their own! What daughter of a hunt god doesn’t revel in a clean kill? Did you teach her this guilt, mortal? To pity her enemies?”

Numair’s patience snapped like a twig and he shot to his feet, “Is it so hard for you to believe she has a mind of her own? That maybe she pities those who cannot help their natures because YOU left her to be hunted for no other reason than she was different from those backward fools in Snowsdale?!”

“What do you know of it, mortal?” huffed Weiryn.

“Nothing,” Numair admitted snidely, “and truthfully, I don’t care to. All I truly care about is whether or not Daine is alright.”

Turning on his heel, Numair followed Daine into her room. He found her standing in front of the vanity, fiercely washing her face and hands in a bowl of gently steaming water. The skin of her left hand was already turning red where she tried to scrub away more than just the mud.

He let go of his residual fear and anger in favor of arresting her hands. Her eyes snapped to his face but he was careful to keep his gaze downcast as he wet a washcloth. With slow and gentle movements, he began removing the mud himself.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked her after a moment, focusing on his task rather the way she attempted to hide her expression.

“Just another thing Ozorne’s gonna regret.”

His hands stilled and he searched her features, “How do you know Ozorne was involved?”

“I saw an image of him in the pond right before the tauros crossed,” she visibly stifled a shiver, her voice becoming distant, “The look in his eyes, I know he could see me.”

Numair’s jaw clenched but his touch remained tender as he finished cleaning the mud from her opposite arm, “Next time I see him I’m going to rip his damned feathers out one by one.”

Daine scoffed and pulled away from him to dip her hair into the basin, “You’ll have to beat me to it.”

Sighing impotently, he carefully folded the washcloth and laid it on the vanity, “Daine, we both know that the reason Ozorne sent that tauros after you was to hurt me by extension. He has made it very clear that your connection to me is what has made you a target and, frankly, I’m tired of seeing you endangered because of it.”

“I’m not staying here,” she told him flatly as she mercilessly twisted here sodden curls. The water fell from the end of her hair in a grey stream to become clear once more as soon as it met the water in the basin.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “That isn’t what I’m saying.”

“I know what you’re sayin’ and you can forget it. I’m not gonna let Ozorne scare me into hiding,” she told him as she began untying the complicated bodice of her crimson gown but she couldn’t reach the upper laces. Cursing, she attempted to twist her arms at different angles to access the ties only to relent with an animalistic growl of frustration.

“I’ll send your mother in to help you,” Numair told her, already turning toward the door but stopped when his eyes fell on the mirror behind her. Daine turned, following his line of sight to find their reflections had been replaced with an image of the gods’ temple at Port Legann.

A crowd stood before the Black God’s statue. All the people one would expect were there; King Jonathan and Queen Thayet standing at the front to hold incense over the flat stones into which Daine and Numair’s names had been carved. They spoke the traditional farewell prayers with empty voices.

Then Alanna stepped up, taking a bowl of water and sprinkling droplets over the stones to wash them clean of mortal sin. When she was finished, Alanna braced her hands against the altar, her head bowed in a show of stubborn determination to be angry rather than let threatening tears flow. Her husband understood, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Gently pulling Alanna away, George turned and waved toward the altar.

Kitten took two steps forward and froze. Her ordinarily blue scales were grey with sadness and her eyes were fearful as they focused on the stones.

“Skysong?” Tkaa urged but an irritated croak escaped through her teeth.

Tkaa was the only one who could understand her, but her adopted parents knew on instinct. It was a stubborn denial, a child sure in her assertion that her parents weren’t dead.

All Tkaa could offer was pity, and under its weight, Kitten was compelled to run.

The image followed her as she dodged the feet of the dozens who had gone to the temple to bid Daine and Numair safe passage into the Black God’s realm.

She darted into the stable, coming to a stop in Spots’ stall. The horse offered no pity. He merely folded his legs beneath him and let Kitten bury her moistureless tears in his mane.

The mirror’s surface wavered and Numair and Daine’s reflections returned, framing their shared heartache.

“Kitten,” Daine whispered, her large grey-blue eyes meeting his through the reflection, “Did you see her? She looked-”

“I saw,” he replied in a pained murmur.

Daine closed her eyes and turned away, her hands fisted at her sides. “I hate this! Seeing things like that and not able to do anything about it, it’s maddening!”

Numair sighed in defeat, “There has to be a way to tell her we’re alright.” That was when an idea popped into his head and he wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it earlier, “Actually, Preet might be able to help us. She could take Kitten a message.”

“She can?” Daine asked, her eyes widening with hope.

“Why not?” Numair replied with a shrug, “She has done it for your mother in the past.”

Daine threw her arms around his neck, half to stifle her fear and half in shared joy. “Well, that’s one problem solved.”

“Now we just need to figure out how to get back to her.”

Daine raised an eyebrow, “I thought you wanted me to stay here?”

“Not that my misgivings seem to matter, my endlessly stubborn magelet. Besides, if this,” he gestured to her mud covered dress, “has demonstrated anything, it’s that you are no safer here than you are in the mortal realm.”

Daine’s lips spread into a conspiratorial smile, “Then how are we getting home?”

“I think the badger is willing to help.”

“So we start asking and hope that he’ll take our side?” she asked incredulously.

“Doesn’t sound like the best plan, does it?”

“Not really but I think it’s the only one we’ve got,” she chuckled, “Well, that’s two things off the list now.”

Lifting a hand to draw a checkmark in the air with an invisible pen, he smirked at her, “It’s amazing how much we accomplish when we stop getting in our own way.”

“You’d think we’d learn that by now,” she said, resting her forehead on his chest.

“Our combined stubbornness means we likely never will,” he replied humorously.

“Good thing we’ve got a lifetime to try to figure it out.”

Numair stiffened as her words made warmth crawl across his skin. Luckily for him, someone knocked on the door before he was forced to answer Daine’s questioning expression, “Sweets?”

“Please, come in, Sarra,” Numair called after disentangling himself from Daine’s embrace.

The door opened and Sarra greeted them with a bright smile, “Daine? Are you feeling better?”

Daine cut her eyes at Numair before she nodded, “I’ll be fine.”

Sarra wrinkled her nose, “That’s good to hear, though I would’ve thought you’d've changed by now.”

“I was just about to come get you. Daine was having trouble unlacing her bodice,” said Numair, his tone carefully cheerful.

Much to his chagrin, Daine’s mother smirked, “And you weren’t able to help?”

“MA!”

Numair had to work to hide his awkwardness behind a smile, “I’d prefer not to give her father yet another reason to hate me.”

Putting her hands on her hips, Sarra said, “He doesn’t hate you.”

Numair shrugged, deciding that Weiryn’s feelings about him were of little consequence. He already had enough reasons to detest the god without it getting personal. “I should probably go talk to Preet.”

Daine eyed him narrowly, “Alright, but we’ll talk later?”

Averting his gaze, he bowed his head in confirmation.

“She’s in the garden with the others eating supper,” said Sarra, moving away from the doorway so Numair could pass.

“Thank you, Sarra.”

“No need to thank me, dear. You’re practically family!”

Numair had to force himself to continue out the door as Sarra’s easily spoken words made his stomach twist, though not unpleasantly.


	6. Where Home Is

Numair was treated to a glare from Weiryn the moment he stepped out of the cottage and into the fanciful garden filled with pink roses and every herb or spice imaginable. The god thankfully limited himself to that single display of rage as Numair sat at the white-washed picnic table opposite the badger. Preet immediately fluttered over to perch on Numair’s shoulder, her feathers catching the waning daylight.

“Hello there, pretty bird.”

She chirped a greeting.

“Where are Sarra and Veralidaine?” asked Weiryn gruffly.

“Sarra is helping Daine change. I’m sure they will join us soon,” Numair replied with overt formality.

Weiryn eyed the mage curiously for a moment before pointedly turning his attention to his food.

A decade of courtly manners kept Numair from following suit, no matter how inviting the meal of roasted rabbit, potatoes, and apple pie smelled. Instead, he reached up to stroke the sunbird's head, “Preet, you think you could do something for me? Daine and I need to get a message to Kitten.”

Preet puffed out her chest and made a sound of affirmation.

“Thank you, sweet.”

“Why send a message to the dragonet? Surely she cannot fly herself here. You’d do better to ask another immortal to bring her,” said Weiryn, “I would bring her myself but my hands are tied until the solstice.”

Numair ignored the god’s advice, focusing on his latter statement, “Why is that?”

Weiryn seemed more than happy to explain, if for no other reason than to prove just how far beneath him Numair was, “I am bound to these lands for the next century for bringing Sarra from the Black God’s Realm.”

“And Sarra? Why can’t she bring Kitten over?”

“All newly made divine beings must remain in the divine realms for half a century, as divine law dictates. So that they do not meddle in the affairs of the mortals they knew. Until that time, they may only influence the mortals that call upon them within the domain to which they are assigned. Sarra cannot even visit her mother and father in the Black God’s Realm without permission from Mithros.”

The sound of clicking metal alerted Numair to an approaching stormwing but when the immortal landed on the roof of the house, Numair relaxed. Rikash Moonsword might not be a friend, but he was not an enemy.

Weiryn waved his hand and a bronze perch appeared at the end of the table, allowing the stormwing to join them.

“Lord Rikash,” Numair greeted with a respectful bow of his head, “It is good to see you again.”

The stormwing peered at Numair with cold fire in his green eyes, “Don’t lie, mortal mage, you’d turn me to ash given half a chance.”

“You!” Rikash’s head whirled at the furiously spoken word, making the bones braided into his long hair clack together like a wind chime in a stiff breeze.

Even though Rikash didn’t see it, Numair smirked at him, “It appears I will have to wait until she is done with you.”

Daine marched from the cottage, wearing a new grey-green gown, to stop within a breath of his razor-sharp feathers. “You promised you’d take care of Ozorne but then he shows up at the end of winter with a whole army of immortals!”

Cowed by her fury, Rikash’s gaze fell to the ground contritely, “I am aware, he has two-hundred and forty-eight stormwings at his beck and call. All of those who didn’t care that he held a queen and her consort captive, that he took his crown by killing King Zoaka from behind and not at the dueling grounds, those who turn their noses up at stormwing law.” He laughed darkly, “We should have let you kill him. Now Queen Barzha and her like are fugitives who must hide in the Divine Realms.”

Crossing her arms, Daine looked down guiltily, “I’m sorry to hear that. I know better than anyone how slippery he can be. How are Queen Barzha and Lord Hebakh?”

Rikash sighed, “Tired, as am I. It isn’t enough for Ozorne to have most of us as followers; those who do not bow he wants dead.”

“That sounds like Ozorne,” said Numair, “How many are on your side of the conflict?”

“Only Sixty-Three and dwindling all the time,” replied Rikash before pinning Daine with sad eyes, “You are right to take us to task for not killing him while we had the chance. I really am sorry, Daine.”

She sighed and placed a hand on Rikash’s fleshy shoulder, much to the stormwing’s surprise, “Don’t worry about it. We humans haven’t had much luck at killing him either.”

“Well, perhaps you should work harder at it,” grumbled Weiryn, turning a glare on Numair once more.

“We’ll be sure to in the future,” the mage replied sarcastically.

“Come now, my love,” said Sarra as she took a seat between the badger and Weiryn, “surely they have tried their hardest to stop him. After all, why would you spare someone who threatens you at every turn?”

“Why indeed,” Weiryn muttered and Numair had to work not to return his glare. It helped when Daine sat beside him, her presence tempering Numair’s rising annoyance. Once more giving into courtly manners, Numair served Daine before himself but was soon reveling in an awesomeness that made his taste buds tingle warmly.

Daine, who was picking at her food more than eating it, kept her eyes on her plate as she asked, “Has anyone thought of a way for us to return to the mortal realm?”

“Pray to the great gods for all the good it will do,” bellowed Weiryn, waving away the question as if it were a waste of thought. “They have barely been speaking to even us lesser gods since they began their fight with Uusoae.”

“What about you, Badger?” asked Daine, “Can’t you take us? I came here after I woke up all those dinosaurs and you were able to take me back then.”

The badger grimaced, _That was different. You were dead._

Numair choked on his mouthful of potatoes. Daine patted him on the back to try to help but when he could breathe again, he turned on her so quickly he might have given himself whiplash, “You died in Carthak?”

She passed him a sheepish look, “Only for a few minutes.”

“That hardly matters, Daine. Why am I just finding out about this now?” he asked her from behind his hand as he pinched the bridge of his long nose, trying uselessly to keep his temper from running away with him.

“Well, I was going to tell you then I remembered how you reacted after I accidentally stopped my heart.”

“Oh yes,” he replied, his voice dripping with cold sarcasm, “because that is not a perfectly logical way to behave when someone you love dies. Forgive me my obvious overreaction.”

“Spare us the theatrics, mortal. She was returned to her mortal body before the Black God took her.”

Numair opened his mouth to unleash all of his pent-up fury at the god but Daine placed a calming hand on his arm. Unfortunately for Weiryn, the Badger was allowed to speak his mind in a huff,

_What if the Tauros had killed her? Would you be so cavalier if she had been trapped in Oblivion?_

Weiryn shrugged, “She was in no real danger. She is safe in my lands.”

“What are you talking about, Badger?” Daine asked, ignoring her father’s assurances.

The badger looked down contritely, _There are rules, my kit, set down by Father Universe and Mother Flame. The Black God cannot collect souls within the Divine Realms. If you die here, you will face the same fate as any other mortal. You are doomed to Oblivion._

Daine looked to Numair in surprise but he could not offer an opinion. Not when his jaw clenched at the way Weiryn addressed the tauros’ attack and the cage Daine might have found herself in had things ended differently.

“I hate to interrupt this lovely family discussion,” said Rikash, his tone telling a different story than his words, “but if you wish to leave, perhaps the dragons can help.”

 _I’m not sure that is a good idea,_ said the badger, _The journey to the Dragonlands is dangerous and they aren’t known to be kind to mortals._

Daine blinked and raised her chin, “How dangerous?”

Weiryn waved his hand in the air with a flourish, “It’s difficult to say. The goddess of blackberry bushes has a particularly nasty streak. The last mortals lost in the divine realms attempted to eat her fruit and were turned into onions to be eaten by giants.”

Rikash shook his head, “It is worth the risk. Daine has been taking care of the little one and more than anything, dragons are noble creatures. One or two of Skysong’s family will want to repay her and they only need one to get to the mortal realms.” Rikash paused, raising his eyebrow at Numair, “Well, one willing to make two trips. There is so much extra of one of you.”

Numair barely noticed the slight, his mind reeling through the pros and cons of such a journey. It seemed there was no safe course while Ozorne threatened them, leaving them with little choice. Still, a small part of him argued that Ozorne might stop sending monsters after Daine if he was not around.

“How do we get there?” asked Daine, her attention on Rikash and ignoring the various expressions pointed at her; from Weiryn’s brooding glare and Sarra’s sad smile, to the Badger’s proudly twinkling eyes and Numair’s contemplative frown.

 _I will guide you,_ said the badger before turning his grumpy gaze on Weiryn, _Unless you plan to cage her?_

For a moment it looked as if Weiryn was actually contemplating doing just that before ultimately letting out a long sigh, “No, I will not cage her.”

 _They will need help crossing the Sea of Sand,_ said the badger, looking toward Rikash, _Can your flock help?_

Rikash clawed at his perch awkwardly, leaving silver scores in the metal, “It will take a lot of convincing but I will bring Queen Barzha around.” He looked at Daine, “Perhaps the others are right and I’ve grown sentimental in my older age but I really would hate to see you harmed.”

Before Daine could respond, Rikash flapped his great steel wings and ascended into the air.

“I almost miss his threats,” said Daine, grinning after the Stormwing.

“I don’t,” said Numair with a grimace, “One less person threatening your life is appreciated.”

Daine chuckled thickly, “Good point.”

Sarra sniffled and looked to Daine with tears balanced on the rims of her eyes, “Not even a full day I’ve had you back. I’d hoped we might have more time.”

“Ma, I don’t belong here,” said Daine, her eyes beginning to glisten as well.

“I know, I just- I’d best start packing your things,” said Sarra as she stood. Daine made to follow her but Sarra waved her away, “No, I don’t need your help, Daine. You’ll only be in my way.” Half-running, Sarra disappeared into the cottage. Preet let out a soft cheep and went after her.

Weiryn shot to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table, “I said I would not stop you but this is folly! Go tell your mother you wish to stay!” The god turned a molten gaze on Numair, “Will you not speak sense to her? Surely even a foolish mortal like you must see how ridiculous this is!”

A shadow fell over Numair, his magic rising as the last of his patience dissipated, “I do not make her decisions for her! If I did, she would remain here!”

“Numair-” hearing his name brought his surroundings into focus. Where the table had been, was only splinters and shards of shattered porcelain. Beside him, Daine stood with her head bowed, her fists clenched at her side as tears fell from beneath her curtain of wild curls to land at her feet.

“Would you stay?” she asked quietly before looking up, her grey-blue eyes becoming pure quicksilver beneath her tears, “If things were the other way around? Would you stay?”

His fists clenched at his sides, “Ozorne has made it very clear that he won’t stop until I’ve paid for my supposed sins. I don’t want you to tie your fate to mine if it will only cause you pain.”

 _That is the most idiotic thing you have said,_ grumbled the Badger, moving to stand beside Daine who had gone completely still. He shifted his bulk from one foot to the other in annoyance, _Your magics’ changed colors for a reason, mage. You’re tied in more ways than you can possibly know._

Shocked by the Badger’s meaning, Numair was left to gape at the wild magic that floated around Daine like a barrier. It was a stream of molten copper sparkling with silver lights, like a fiery river touched by moonlight.

Against his will, his gift reached out to her. The inky tendrils dotted with copper stars moved in the same way his fingers did when brushing the curls from her eyes. It was a metaphysical demonstration of the connection between them, something not even Numair’s warring heart could deny.

Weiryn scoffed, moving to stand on Daine’s other side with his nose in the air, “Why else would I bring you here? If you fell to those chaos monsters, my daughter would have been corrupted as well. You have endangered my daughter with this bond though you had neither my permission nor my blessing to bind your magics!”

“And we don’t need it!” Daine nearly yelled at her father before turning her raised chin on Numair, “I can make my own choices.”

“Yes,” Numair replied, blatant indecision in his tone, “but so can I.”

Eyes widening in disbelief, she muttered, “You don’t mean that.”

He wasn’t allowed the chance to deny it as she immediately turned on her heel and stomped into the cottage.

“Well, you’ve done it now, mortal! You’ve guaranteed that she will not journey to the Dragonlands with you!” said Weiryn, far too happy for decency’s sake.

“If that is what you heard, you do not know her at all,” Numair said heatedly but his heavy shoulders and bowed head told a very different story.

 _Unless you actually meant what you said, you’ll go apologize right this instant,_ hissed the Badger, _I will return in the morning to begin our journey. By then, I expect you to have stopped this foray into stupidity._

Weiryn scoffed, “I would not take the Hag’s wager on that.”

The badger turned his rage on the god, _You’re so busy hating Master Numair for being there when you couldn’t, you’re driving your kit away! If you care for her, it’s high time you started acting like it!_

Without another word, the badger disappeared in a swirl of silver mist. The two men left in his wake stood in the aftermath looking thoroughly cowed.

“The badger does not know what he speaks of,” said Weiryn angrily.

“Far be it from me to say if he does or not,” replied Numair with a long breath, “but at least I am willing to admit when I’ve been an idiot.”


	7. Where Peace is Found

Sarra was standing at the washbasin, scrubbing at dishes with misplaced frustration, when Numair entered the cottage. Preet was perched on the faucet, turning a helpless look on the mage that stopped him in his tracks.

“Daine’s in her room. She wouldn’t talk to me.” Water splashed over the side of the tub as Sarra dunked a bowl into the suds with ferocity. “Ugh! I don’t see why you all have to be so stubborn!”

Sarra closed her eyes and clutched at the rim of the washbasin as if that were the only thing holding her up, “The first thing I did after Weiryn brought me here was look in on her. I saw her running from the men in the village but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I couldn’t protect my baby from men who wanted to hurt her for no other reason than she was different from them. I was sure that the Black God would take her at any moment but when that didn’t happen, I made myself look in on her again. You were juggling for her and she was laughing. That was when I knew she’d be alright.” Opening her eyes, Sarra passed him a watery smile, “Do you understand?”

Admonished for the second time in a span of moments, Numair nodded.

“Good, then go make my baby smile again.”

“I’ll do my best.” Numair started toward the hallway with a new sense of purpose but stopped short and turned back around, “Sarra, I find apologies work best if one brings a gift. Could you please provide me with the tools required to write a short message?”

Sarra dried her hands on a towel before summoning a lap desk, complete with ink and quill, from the air. “I s’pose Daine’s never been one for flowers, huh?”

Numair shook his head, “She is far too practical for something like that.”

“Very true,” she replied with a chuckle and handed the desk to him.

“Thank you.”

She put her hands on her hips mockingly, “Now, what did I say about thanking me?”

“Right,” he replied, ducking his head. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to get over how alike and yet different Daine and Sarra were.

Standing outside Daine’s door, he took a fortifying breath and opened it to find her sitting on the floor beside the bed. Her legs were gathered to her chest, her head rising from where it rested on her knees so she could glare at him past her tears.

Sighing, he walked in and kicked the door closed behind him. Setting the lap desk on the bed, he sat beside her. Daine made no moves toward or away from him, so he drew up his legs and rested his wrists languidly on his knees. Letting his head fall forward, he said, “Is it too late to take back what I said?”

“Yes, because you meant it,” she replied, the anger in her voice there to mask the hurt.

“That’s the problem. I didn’t. That makes it so much worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

Daine’s scoff was caught between a laugh and a sniffle, “I don’t believe you. You know how to say everything so it makes sense.”

“Not this. This defies explanation. It is like trying to speak a dead language, stumbling around strange sounds and trying to say something I have no context for.”

Curiosity seemed to steal away the last of her anger, “What do you mean ‘no context for’?”

He cut his eyes at her, gesturing between them, “This is all very new to me. I’ve often lusted, Daine, but I’ve rarely loved. It’s rather frustrating actually. Sometimes I wonder how anyone manages to-”

Numair stopped when she murmured his name. Looking over, he found a smile peeking through her hair, “You’re the silliest man in all the realms.”

Reaching up to comb her curls back with his fingers and reveal the entirety of her expression, he smiled back at her, “I must be because I love you so much I’ve lost my ability to think logically.”

She averted her gaze, pulling his hand from her face to rest entwined between them “You know, you’ve never said you love me before today. Not direct anyways.”

“Really?” he asked her, stunned despite subconsciously knowing she was right.

A shaking head was paired with a gentle squeeze of his hand to create forgiveness, “Do you want to know why I don’t want to stay here? The truth?” Numair might have answered but she never afforded him the chance, “Because I want to go home. Not just back to Tortall but HOME, to the tower.” Her eyes closed, “Hobs bobs, I can’t even remember the last time we were there.”

“The summer before we left for Carthak,” he replied. She raised a questioning eyebrow at him, so he explained, “I remember it very clearly. It was the time Kitten burned down the stable.”

Daine chuckled wetly, “Only ‘cause you gave her that book on whistle magics BEFORE teaching her how to draw circles to practice in.”

“Yes, if I had started with that I could have saved poor Spots and Cloud from sleeping under a tarp while I had the stable rebuilt.”

“Prolly.” Her voice dropped low, becoming wistful, “That was the summer we practiced flying over the ocean.”

Numair let his head fall back against the downy mattress, his mind’s eye casting images of summer sun and glittering ocean waves over the plaster ceiling. “I never knew you felt that way about the tower. In truth, I always thought you liked staying the palace better.”

“Well, that’s just silly. I can make bread at the tower.”

“Bread?”

“Don’t tell me you never noticed. I swear, you’d eat half the loaf before it’d even cooled.”

“Well, while I have many fond memories of your freshly baked breads, I cannot determine why such an activity would be limited to the tower.”

When she replied, the words were spoken in a false absence that failed to conceal her melancholy, “Baking there is gentle and quiet, like home is supposed to be.”

Her thumb fell across his knuckles, as if the digit were weighted by her confession.

“That’s what keeps me going,” she said, “No matter how bad things get, I feel better when I think about going home again.”

Clearing his throat of the tears that stung his eyes, Numair reached up and retrieved the lap desk Sarra had given him, “Well, we had better make sure a certain little dragon doesn’t murder us before we get the chance.”

He tried to hand it to Daine but she shook her head. “Your writing’s better than mine and, if we’re going to tell Kitten we’re not dead, it best be readable.”

Unable to argue with that, Numair moved into a tailor’s seat and set the desk across his lap.

“What should we tell her?” he asked, wetting the quill. When he did a piece of parchment appeared across the wood surface.

“You mean you don’t know? Now I really have seen everything. Master Numair lost for words, not once but twice!”

“Very amusing, magelet, but I’m serious. Writing ‘we’re not dead’ seems very cold, don’t you think?”

Her smile softened as she laid her head on his shoulder, “You’re right, but I don’t know either. You’re the one who’s good at these things.”

“You are far better at keeping things simple. You know how much I struggle to distill a thought into a few words.”

“That’s true. How about ‘we’ll be home soon’?”

“Perfect.”

He wrote the simple message in his neat and flourished hand, signing it “Your mother and father”.

When it was finished, Daine took up the parchment and blew the ink dry.

As if on cue, the door opened and Preet flew in, landing beside Daine and dutifully holding out her leg. Daine busied herself attaching the note to the sun bird's leg, trying and failing to stifle her tears. With a sniffle, she made double-sure the parchment was secure before meeting Preet’s expressive eyes. Nodding her head like a knight accepting orders, Preet took flight.

Numair and Daine watched as the sunbird ascended into the sky with a flash of reflected moonlight.

They waited, hoping beyond logic to have some proof that their plan had worked but the night wore on in silence.

Eventually, Daine let out a yawn that stretched her entire body.

“You should get some rest,” Numair said softly, “It has been a very trying day.”

In place of words, she pushed herself to her feet and offered him her hand. He took it without question and let her pull him up.

Decorum was forgotten as Numair removed his shirt and held it out to her. She disappeared behind the dressing screen, reemerging wearing nothing but said shirt. Falling into that habit they had adopted after Carthak, they climbed into Daine’s bed.

“‘Night, Numair.”

“Sweet dreams, my love.”


	8. Where Messages Are Delivered

Dawn light crept through the window, bathing grey-blue scales in golden light.

Kitten was curled up in the center of the bed, her eyes closed too tightly. Tkaa sat near the fireplace, watching the flames without really seeing them.

The door opening made Kitten curl tighter into herself, refusing to acknowledge the man and woman who entered in a flurry of leather armor and dusty linen. Alanna froze as her amethyst eyes fell on the dragonet, her naturally blazing fire softening to an ember. The man behind her touched her shoulder, the mirthful glimmer in his dancing green eyes belied by his deep frown.

“Ya shouldn’t be in here, luv.”

Alanna shrugged off her husband’s hand and turned toward Tkaa, “Has she been doing any better?”

Tkaa shook his head, “She needs time.”

Shoulder’s falling, Alanna let out a long sigh, “We all do.” In that same breath, Alanna steeled herself and asked, “Where’s Numair’s things?”

Kitten’s head shot up and she growled, warning the knight away. Tkaa pointed his sad, grandfatherly eyes on the dragonet as he asked, “May I inquire as to why?”

“The enemy knows too much, far more than can be explained by just having good spies. They have to have some sort of spell and I was hoping he might have had a theory to work from. Knowing him, he figured it out without even knowing he had.”

Kitten growled louder, jumping off the bed and taking up a sentry position in front of the packs in the corner, regarding them with the careful reverence of a shrine.

George moved past his wife and knelt in front of Kitten, his trickster’s expression softening into a fatherly smile, “Ya know yer da would’ve wanted ta help any way he could. Even if he cannit do it hisself. We’ll put everythin’ back the way it was, we promise.”

The dragonet bowed her head and whistled sadly, slinking across the room to jump back onto the bed. Man, woman, and basilisk looked on impotently as Kitten curled back into a ball and buried her head beneath her tail.

Suddenly, a flare of light, like sunlight catching on a mirror, pulled everyone’s attention toward the window.

A strange silver-feathered bird flew through the opening to land on the bed where Kitten laid. For a moment, the bird seemed to examine the dragonet before she let out a soft chirp that translated into an animal voice in Kitten’s head, _It is nice to finally meet you, sister._

 _Sister?_ Kitten thought, her confusion finding its way to Tkaa’s ears.

“Skysong?” asked the basilisk in hissing common, "Who is your friend?"

Preet never broke her gaze from Kitten’s as she cheeped kindly, _Arram calls me Preet. Skysong and I are like sisters because we were raised by the same man._

“We have heard stories of you,” Tkaa said with a bow of his reptilian head, “but it is rare for a sunbird to pass into the mortal realms. What brings you here favored one?”

Lifting the leg with the attached message, Preet let out a soft coo, _I have brought you a message from your parents._

Kitten became a firework, chattering wildly as she shifted between shades like a rainbow. Sharp silver claws gently detached the message from Preet’s offered leg and unrolled it. Then she froze, staring down at the words written in her papa’s fanciful hand. _We will be home soon._

Alanna and George approached the bed, “Kitten? What is it?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, Kitten held the message out for their inspection without allowing it to leave her claws. George and Alanna looked up from the message, searching for confirmation in each other’s disbelieving expressions.

“They are alive,” Alanna said slowly.

Kitten whistled, pinning Preet with questioning eyes. The sunbird chirped in reply, bowing her head in a respectful flourish. _They are trapped in the Divine Realms but they are doing their best to return to you._

With a shrill sound, Kitten let her joy be known to the world.

George opened his mouth to say something but the door flew open to reveal Jeremi, his eyes wide, “Master Tkaa! The wyverns are back!”

Alanna spun on the squire, her expression thunderous, “Then let the archers handle it!”

“They can’t! Hurroks have them pinned at the front of the fortress!”

Kitten whistled sharply and started toward the door, her amber eyes flashing. The knight made to follow the dragonet out, and likely stop her judging by Alanna’s dark scowl, but Tkaa blocked her path.

“What in divinity are you doing!”

“Skysong made her choice,” Tkaa said calmly.

Alanna’s fists clenched at her sides, “You’d better move, Master Basilisk. I will NOT explain to Diane and Numair that I let Kitten exhaust herself into the Black God’s Realm!”

“She won’t,” said Tkaa, “She is making sure they have a home to return to.”

“Then we’ll fight by her side,” said George, a somber note to his rougish voice. Alanna spun on him, her amethyst eyes lit with burning rage but George met them levelly, “it’s what Daine and Numair would want us ta do.”

Falling to George’s words, Alanna unclenched her fists and nodded. Only then did Tkaa leave to follow Kitten to the battlements, the knight and her husband on his heels.

***

When Daine and Numair awoke the next morning, they only needed to look at each other to know they had shared the same dream. Kitten had received their message and she was waiting for them.

 _Do you plan to sleep until the universe collapses?_ said the Badger, appearing at the end of the bed to growl at them.

“No,” said Daine, grinning at Numair as she spoke, “We’re ready to go home.”

_Good, I’m glad you’ve both seen sense. Now, make haste. Your mother has breakfast waiting for you._

Breakfast was a somber affair. The air was filled with a silence dense with pleas that could not be spoken for fear of shattering the love that laced through the quiet and filled it with an undeniable warmth.

After eating her fill, Daine helped her mother wash the dishes. The women easily fell into an old routine that required no discussion. Sarra would wash, Daine would rinse and dry. It was a magic as old as time itself and a mystery to both mages and gods, only visible in the quiet moments when mother and daughter communicated without words. A brush of hands when a soapy plate was passed, the sad smile when a fork was dropped into the rinsing bin, a wayward splash of water met with a soundless giggle. It was beautiful and yet heartbreaking.

Somewhere in the dance of plates and cutlery, Numair saw a inky creature slither out from behind the wash basin, eyelessly watching the scene. It had no face but the way it twisted, it seemed to be considering the scene with curiosity. When it finally slid back into the shadows, its movements were almost melancholy.

Numair’s attention was pulled from the spot where the inky blob disappeared when Daine came and placed her hand over his. Against the dry coolness of the table’s lacquered surface, Daine’s clammy hand felt strange. Her calluses had been softened by the warm water, making her skin feel like satin. “The Badger says it’s time to leave.”

“Before you go, you two need to come with me,” said Weiryn, standing and gesturing toward a small workshed that had appeared just outside the cottage.

Inside the decorless building, different weapons were made with traditional wood carvers tools. Weiryn began picking up different completed bows around the room, testing them and discarding them. Eventually he found one satisfactory and held it out to Daine. It was carved from ebony, the the tips of the staff forming into ivory points that made it appear like the antlers of some royal beast.

“I give these to those I favor and if my daughter isn’t one I favor, who is?”

Daine took the bow and felt along the staff, testing its weight and tension. When she was done, she grinned at her father, “She’s sweet, da!”

Weiryn handed her a coiled bowstring and Daine giddily strung the bow before moving into an archer’s stance and drawing it. When she relaxed her arms, she actually giggled, “Hobs bobs! I’ll never miss with this!”

“I’m glad it pleases you,” he said and gave her a quiver of supple dark brown leather. The arrows within glowed a faint silver.

She strapped the bow and quiver across her torso in that highly practiced motion she used and threw her arms around Weiryn’s neck.

“I love it.”

For a moment Weiryn hesitated before finally embracing her in return, closing his eyes and reveling in holding his daughter for the first time.

“I wish you could stay, my daughter.”

“I know, da, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. In the end, our choices rule us all.”

Watching the scene, Numair’s heart clenched. Though it was vain, he was overcome with the feeling that he was stealing something from Daine and Weiryn. Numair quickly stomped down the wayward guilt and reminded himself that it was Daine’s choice.

They broke apart and Weiryn cleared his throat, “You had best return to the house. Your mother has missed you terribly. She was looking forward to having you under her roof again, even if it could only be for a short time.”

“Can’t you and ma come with us?”  Daine asked, awkwardly fiddling with her badger’s claw.

“We cannot,” the god replied regretfully, “When I brought your mother here, she and I became bound to my lands for a century. We were not aware of the true cost when we so readily agreed to pay the price.”

Daine looked to her feet but, in a stunning show of awareness, Weiryn said, “She will always be watching over you, therefore she will never be far from you.”

“Thanks, da.”

Nodding, Weiryn motioned toward the door, “You should go. I have something I wish to speak with the mortal about.”

Daine glanced nervously at Numair but he stifled the urge to roll his eyes and instead smiled his reassurance.

Once the door had closed behind her, Weiryn turned his embered gaze on Numair before holding out his hand. In his palm was a tiny jeweled locket. “Here, mage. This is for you.”

Taking it up, Numair was shocked to find the magic contained within was his own but strengthened and given a singular purpose. Flicking the locket open, he found it contained a miniature portrait. The face that looked up at him was one Numair knew well rendered in oil paints, perfectly capturing Daine’s likeness from fierce blue-grey eyes to stubborn chin. 

Opposite the portrait was a black gem that danced with a shattering of copper, the other half of the spell Numair had given Daine for her eighteen birthday.

To most mages, the locket would have been nothing more than a focus, a piece of magic meant to connect two people across any distance, but to Numair it was so much more. It was a life-line.

“When my daughter used the gift you gave her, it became keyed to her essence. I had the badger retrieve it and have strengthened it with my own power.”

“What are the rules?” asked Numair, knowing the gods too well not to believe that using such a powerful object would come with a price.

“The Hag has taught you well,” Weiryn said with something close to respect, “its power means that you two will remain connected even across realms. It is not a gift I give easily but my daughter has chosen you and I have never known her to be unwise in such matters.”

“I understand,” Numair said and carefully attached it to the large-linked tungsten chain at his wrist.

“Use it well, mage,” Weiryn said warningly before turning on his heel and leading the way back to the cottage.

Sarra and Daine were waiting with traveling packs and cloaks. Daine’s was a deep sapphire blue while Numair’s was soft black wool. Once they had donned them, Sarra grabbed Daine in a hug.

“You’ll come visit?” Sarra asked, painful hope in her voice.

“Of course, ma. I just- I don’t know when that’ll be.”

Sarra held Daine at arm’s length, “We’ll know. We’ll come for you at the closest holiday.”

Daine smiled warmly at her mother, “Alright.”

The two women hugged one last time before Sarra moved to Numair. Grabbing him up in a hug, she smiled as she whispered in his ear, “Please keep taking care of my little girl.”

“I will,” he promised in a murmur.

Pulling away, Sarra dug a handkerchief from her pocket and began wiping at falling tears. Daine sniffled, eyes reflecting the world around her as she turned away.

Everyone filtered out of the cottage and into the garden where the badger was waiting, _All set?_

“Lead the way,” said Numair, gesturing toward the forest.

The badger nodded and started down the road. Numair went after him but Daine followed slowly. After giving her father and mother one last tearful wave, Daine lengthened her stride and fell into step beside him.

Numair took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “It isn’t really goodbye.”

“I know but it hurts like goodbye. At least I got to say it this time.”

“It’s not the same, magelet.”

“Then why does it feel that way?”

Numair sighed, “Because part of you wanted to stay.”

“Maybe. It was fair peaceful there, but it wasn’t home.”

“It could have been, given time.”

She shook her head, “No, not really. I’m not Weirynsra. I’m not even Sarrasri anymore. I’m just Daine.”

That was when a strange question bubbled in Numair’s throat but he quickly killed it on his tongue. It was not the time or place to ask her if she would rather have the name Salmalin.

The scenery of the divine realms slowly changed as they walked, the forest growing thinner until they emerged in a sprawling field of verdant grasses as soft as satin. Small flowers swayed in the breeze, sending sweet smells into the air.

 _We should continue until we reach Temptation Lake,_ said the badger, glancing up at the descending sun, _It is a neutral zone. No one can be harmed within range of there._

“Right,” Daine agreed but the words were absent. Numair frowned at her when she rubbed at her ears. His hearing pricked, a quiet rustling from very close by drawing him to a stop.

“Do you hear something?”

Daine sheepishly forced her hands to her sides as she turned back to look at him, “Not really. There aren’t any of the People here, they’re all gods, so I hear the animals but I don’t HEAR them. I feel deaf.”

He would have chuckled if not for the unnerving muttering, “There is a sound. I think it’s coming from your pack.”

Frowning, he followed the sound of a whispered argument toward one of the many pockets.

“Numair what-” Daine started to ask over her shoulder but he warned her with a finger to his lips. Bringing his gift to his fingers, he slowly pulled up the flap to reveal a small inky blob. It shrank away from the light, trying to make itself as small as possible.

Numair trapped it within a paralyzing spell before fishing it from its hiding place for Daine to see. “Seems you acquired a stowaway.”

Daine gasped, “You’re the little thing that’s been following me around da’s. It warned me before the tauros showed up.”

“You might have mentioned that piece of information before,” Numair drawled, “Can you speak to it?”

She shook her head, “I don’t think it’s an immortal.”

Trembling, the inky mass raised a piece of itself up to make a head-like shape, which it shook slowly.

“Whatever it is, it seems to understand us,” said Numair before lifting the little creature to eye level.

“Were you in my pack on accident?” Daine asked and it shook its head again, “So you wanted to come with us?” It nodded. “Well, then do you gotta name?” The little creature shrunk into a pool in Numair’s palm, it’s movements a wistful admission of namelessness.

 _Give it a name,_ said the Badger as if instructing them in some mystical art.

“Jelly,” Daine exclaimed suddenly before beaming up at Numair, “I say it’s name is Jelly. You know, ‘cause it looks like blackberry jam.”

Numair found his expression mirroring hers, “I wouldn’t suggest trying to spread it on toast.”

Daine pulled a face at him, “Now you’re just being silly.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “The way you say that makes it seem like an abnormal state.”

“Only for other people,” she replied with a smirk.

 _If you two are quite finished, we still have a long road to Temptation Lake,_ the badger grumbled before turning away to continue down the road.

Passing Numair a sarcastic eye roll, she pulled open her breast pocket, “Pop Jelly in here.”

Numair hesitated before doing as she said, tipping his hand over the pocket so Jelly could drip into its new home. Back in the safety of shadow, the little creature settled into a small blob that barely moved as Daine let the grey fabric close over it.

“Keep an eye on it,” Numair warned, eyeing the lump in her pocket warily.

“Don’t worry so much. It seems fair harmless.”

A warning hissed through Numair’s mind like running water, spoken in Ozorne's voice, _Enemies come in all forms._

He swallowed the urge to repeat the words aloud, opting for a shrug, “Keep an eye on it anyway. Just in case.”

Daine caught his hand before he could turn away, “Have a little faith.”

Passing her a bored look he said, “We are walking through the Divine Realms. I think we have surpassed simple faith.”


	9. Where Temptation Dances

Night was descending in its entirety by the time the Badger motioned toward the left-hand side of the road where a silver lake reflected the purple sky above. The waters themselves had a strange aura that sparkled like ocean waves despite remaining entirely still. On one side of the water, thin reeds grew among cattails to become a veritable forest where nocturnal amphibians splashed.

_Temptation Lake. We’ll stay the night here, but be warned, only Gods can drink from the lake without being consumed by gluttony._

Numair quickly decided that it might be best to make their camp beneath the shelter of a large silver oak, it’s trunk so broad that it would take four men with outstretched arms to encircle it. The reason he gave Daine was that the lusher grasses that grew around the tree would provide more comfort but, in actuality, the last thing he wished to risk was further temptation.

Already his mind whispered with the desire to verbalize the thought that had so errantly crossed his mind as they left her parent’s cottage. It seemed the logical conclusion to the end of their story, that they would stand before the Goddess and become life-long partners. Still, he felt a sense of trepidation at the idea. He had seen happy marriages but he had seen so many more where feelings of passion had turned to apathy. His parent’s marriage had started in much the same manner as Daine and Numair’s relationship had, a romance built on respect, but they had been miserable in the years that followed. By the end, their marriage had become a prison.

Perhaps that was why Numair had subconsciously sabotaged so many romantic relationships over the years. Onua had once accused him of being fickle but it was more than that. He tended to show them his worst sides when they started to get too close. The thing was, Daine had already seen him at his worst and loved him anyway. It was that knowledge that filled him with wistful hope but it was quickly destroyed by the idea that limerence was a fleeting thing. Would Daine wake up one day, years down the line, and feel caged? Daine was a wild creature, as fierce as a wolf and as beautiful as a songbird, tying her down would only work to destroy everything he loved about her. Everything that made her Daine.

“I know that look,” Daine said, dragging him from his internal debate, “You’re thinking about something you shouldn’t be.”

“Best leave me to it,” he told her, bowing his head and refocusing on dividing up the bread Sarra had packed for them, “I’m afraid my ruminations are fleeting.”

She pulled a face at him, “Out with it, silly man, ‘fore it festers.”

He rolled his eyes, “My thoughts are not some sort of septic infection.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You look pained by ‘em.”

“I was simply contemplating the complexities of dissatisfaction with one’s choices,” he told her, purposely using multi-syllable words to throw her off the trail. He should have known it wouldn’t work.

“You mean regrets?” she asked rhetorically before raising her chin rose and busying her hands setting out bedrolls, “That seems a silly thing to fret over. Why bother regretting things? We make decisions the best we can. If we make the wrong ones, we live with them. That’s life.”

“Exactly, but some decisions have far-reaching consequences. One’s course can be dictated by one single choice. It’s possible that simply choosing camp bread over rice for supper could change everything. It’s just a lot to consider in the grand scheme of life.”

 _Few gods understand such complexities, but you treat them errant thoughts._ Numair couldn’t tell if the Badger was impressed or exasperated.

The mage shrugged, “As I said. They weren’t particularly pressing thoughts, simply idle ones.”

“Well, let ‘em go so we can eat and get some sleep.”

“Easier said than done, magelet, but I’ll do my best.”

She rolled her eyes, “S’pose that’s all I can ask.”

 

Numair was standing in a dark room, silver starlight filtering through the slats above. The scene swayed side to side but he could not feel the momentum, making him nauseous.

At the center of the room, a bowl filled with flickering lights cast shadows on a familiar face. Unrestrained victory danced across Ozorne’s features as he peered into the bowl and a pair of muffled voices emerged.

Jonathan let out a very unkingly sound, “Did you not see what happened out there? The Yamani Fleet was destroyed. How am I supposed to explain to the Emperor, our only capable ally in all this, that the Copper Island blockade disappeared! From their perspective, it looks like WE sent the Kraken!”

“You’re asking me? You’re the damn diplomat!” Alanna yelled in reply, her legendary temper on full display in her voice.

A panicked voice, possibly belonging to Jeremi, yelled, “YOUR MAJESTY! LIONESS! COME QUICK! THE KRAKEN! IT’S BACK, AND IT’S HITTING THE SEA-SIDE WALLS!”

Alanna’s curse was as colorful as it was disconcerting, “Call every mage we’ve got. It’s time we put a stop to that old shipkiller.”

A door closed but the voices continued, breathless as if they were running.

“Do you have a plan?” asked Jonathan.

“No, but we don’t have many options. By the goddess, I wish Numair and Daine were here,” Alanna’s voice rose as if she were yelling at the gods themselves, “This would be a great time to make an appearance you lanky fool!”

Numair wished beyond all hope that he could comply but all he could do was look at the menacing face of his former best friend as the light in the bowl dimmed.

“How many people have to die before you’re satisfied,” Numair hissed.

Ozorne’s head swiveled in Numair’s direction and his face twisted in rage, “You!”

The stormwing flew at him but Ozorne’s steel feathers phased through Numair’s body as if he were made of air. Ozorne crashed against the wooden wall, rebounding back onto the deck in a heap. When he recovered, he glared at Numair with so much hate that the mage was lucky he didn’t combust. “How!”

Numair merely shrugged, appearing far calmer than he felt, “To be honest? I don’t know. Still, it might give us an opportunity to speak. It’s been a very long time since we’ve done that with any civility.”

“I have nothing to say to you, traitor!”

Tapping his chin, Numair looked to be contemplating things but his heated tone spoke to his barely contained anger, anger that would have manifested in a deadly show of magical ability if he were in his body. “You know there was a time when I would have followed you to the end of the earth. What changed? What could be worth all this hatred? What did I do that was so terrible, you would tear the world apart to see me suffer?”

Ozorne sneered, “I was willing to overlook your filthy heritage, but you betrayed me!”

That shocked Numair, “What are you talking about?”

“Chioke told me about your filthy Sarajit father. Not that he was in Saraj when those rebels killed my father. He was safely in Tyra by then, married to your whore of a mother. Tell me, how much did he have to pay the university to make sure you were assigned to the same room as me? Or are you going to deny it? To insist you are innocent in all this?”

“Ozorne. My father was a textile merchant, nothing more. He didn’t even want to send me to the university.”

“More lies! You manipulate everyone! Even your friends! Those who would have given you everything!”

Unconsciously, Numair backed away as all the pieces of his life fell into place. All the pain and suffering he had endured hinging on a prejudice born in the heart of a boy who had lost his father. Defeated by understanding, Numair’s shoulders fell, “I wish things could have been different.”

“How could this story have ended any differently?” Ozorne spat viciously, even as a tremor of regret whispered beneath his words, “Treachery is in your blood.”

Numair blinked and he was once more looking up at the divine sky, the first light of dawn coloring the world in shades of grey.

Careful not to disturb Daine, he slipped out of their shared bedroll and began aimlessly wandering through the oak grove. There was no reason behind it; he just needed to do something, anything, to make Ozorne’s words stop echoing through his mind.

Beneath Ozorne’s cold words, a voice whispered to him. _Everything is your fault. You weren’t clever enough to see the signs. But you can fix it. You can make sure that no one has to suffer ever again. Peace, happiness, freedom; you could have it all, you just have to keep walking forward._

There was something cold climbing up his calves, slowly consuming him, but he couldn’t be bothered with trying to determine what it was. He had to keep walking. He had to know if there was a way to fix everything, to finally end the hatred, to end the suffering.

Then something slammed into him, removing the veil from his mind and bringing him to awareness. He tried to breathe but there was no air, only a thickness that choked him. Strong arms surrounded him and he found his head breaking through a liquid surface. Sputtering, he was propelled through the water until he was deposited onto a bed of mud. Rolling to his knees, he rid himself of all the water he had inhaled and more.

When the roaring in his ears had died down, he noticed that the body beside him was doing much the same thing, retching violently. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Numair turned his head toward the sound and found Daine rolling onto her back. Her arms spread out on either side of her, her chest rising and falling raggedly. Large silver eyes stared up at the sky, blinking slowly. Numair sprawled out beside her in complete exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” she asked him after a long moment, “You didn’t swallow any other water did you?”

“If I did, it didn’t remain in my system,” he told her, far calmer than he truly felt, “What happened?”

Her voice turned exasperated, “A chaos creature was trying to drown you, you dolt, and you were following it like you were drunk. Then again, who could say no to a woman with a chest like THAT? Are you sure you didn’t drink any of the water before you got dragged into the lake?”

Numair scoffed, even as his face heated, “No, I did not drink the water and request temptation. Though I would think that obvious, I can think of multiple things far more beguiling than a chaos creature disguised as a buxom woman.”

“Right,” she said. It might have sounded like sarcasm but something about her tone told him it wasn’t.

 _You had best see this,_ said the Badger, effectively cutting off the question on the tip of Numair’s tongue.

Still sopping wet, Numair pushed himself from the muddy bank and followed Daine to where the Badger waited.

The animal god was grumbling from within a mass of reeds but it was when he moved aside they could see why he was in such a foul mood. An oozing puddle of shifting, jewel-toned magic bubbled from the ground like a spring and trickled down toward the lake.

_A chaos vent this close to the lake is disconcerting. Many gods come here to drink and swim. Who knows how many have been poisoned._

“Poisoned?” Daine asked, glancing over at Numair worriedly.

The Badger passed her a bored stare, _Poisoned might not be the correct word. More like corrupted. Uusoae will gain control of any magic she touches. Even gods touched by chaos become her allies._

“What about half-mortals?” Numair asked, just as concerned as Daine was.

Glancing at Daine, the Badger looked worried for just a moment before banishing the expression and saying, _I don’t think any of it got into your blood. Just make sure you are careful, both of you. These vents are common in the Divine Realms but they are very dangerous._ Turning back toward the vent, the Badger shifted his bulk from one foot to the other anxiously, _Uusoae has her purpose, just like we all do, but there must always be balance and every day she grows stronger. I think this might be the end of divinity as Father Universe ordained._

At his words, the chaos vent began to hiss. Daine took a step toward it, curious. “It’s wondrous in its way. Evil, but fair beautiful.”

Numair gently pulled her back to his side, “While I cannot deny it, in light of this new information, I would prefer it if you would remain as far from it as possible.”

Turning, she smirked at him, “Believe me, I don’t plan to become a chaos creature.”

Absently, he brushed a drying curl from her cheek, leaving behind a streak of mud that somehow managed to look attractive on her, “Good because I love you just the way you are.”

Her smirk bloomed into a bright smile, “You always know just what to say.”


	10. Where Bridges Are Crossed

The world shook endlessly as large tentacles crashed against the walls. Standing beside Alanna, Kitten did what she could to deter the large creature but it didn’t seem to feel the spells she and the mages threw at it despite the singe marks they left across its slick black skin.

That was when Tkaa emerged from below, his long-clawed hands clapped over his ears.

 _What’s wrong?_ Kitten whistled at him.

He grimaced, revealing the entire array of his stone-grinding teeth and answered in animal-voice, _Can you not hear it, Skysong? There is a song on the wind. A terrible song, an endless string of sour notes that makes my blood boil._

It took Kitten a moment to put the pieces together with everything her mama had told her about the Kraken. On the day of Kitten’s birth, her mother had died. Daine’s anger at seeing the great dragon fall had called the Kraken to Pirate’s Swoop, bringing it from the depths of the ocean to destroy the Carthaki mages who had nearly drained Numair’s magic from him.

What if the song was made of anger? What if that was what was causing the Kraken to attack Legann and the Yamani fleet before that?

There was only one way to find out. It was an old spell that had been in one of Numair’s older books. Kitten couldn’t read Old Thak back then but it had taken very little to convince her papa to translate it for her.

 _"The Blanket of Silence,”_ his voice said in Kitten’s memory and she could see him phonetically spelling the word across a scrap of parchment, _“it is one of the words of power but, like all the other words, this one comes with consequences. This one will cause a devastating earthquake, likely killing hundreds so I would never use it without an excellent reason.”_

_“Like?” mama had asked him, her lips twisting in a smirk._

_He had only shrugged, but there was laughter in his eyes as he answered, “Like when a certain little magelet sends her bird friends to wake me before sunrise.”_

Stopping the Kraken was a much better reason.

Kitten whistled to Tkaa, asking him to tell Alanna her plan. After he did, the knight looked at the dragonet with a mingling of fear and relief. Ducking down behind the crumbling guard wall, she turned toward one of the gifted squires. “You! Get me something to write with! Quick!”

The squire ran off to do as he was told and returned a moment later with a torn scrap of parchment and a piece of charcoal. Alana passed them to Kitten, “Write it out but make sure it’s good and readable. If I’m going to do something as doltish as use a word of power, I’d best say it right the first time.”

Kitten wrote out the word as neatly as she could, making sure to spell out each sound exactly how it was meant to be said. Once she was finished, she passed it to the Lioness and whistled a warning.

“Don’t worry, little one, I’m very aware of how dangerous this is but until your damned father gets back from his holiday in the Divine Realm, I don’t have much of a choice.”

Standing, Alanna braced her hands against the stone and shouted the word into the air. A large chunk of the wall fell into the water below without a sound, and the world went still. Inky black tentacles pulled away from the walls and slid back into the water. As the Kraken fled, it took much of the sea with it, leaving a vast expanse of wet sand between the fortress and the water’s edge. Once it was gone, sound returned in the form of Alanna’s hollow chuckle.

“Well, that went better than I thought it would,” she said right before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted. The piece of parchment Kitten had written the word on was ripped away by the harsh breeze, floating off into the distance.

Someone called for a healer but George was the one to arrive, falling to his knees beside his wife’s pale form and searched her for a pulse.

“What in the bloody hell happened?” he asked no one in particular.

“She used a word of power to rid us of the Kraken,” said Tkaa, moving closer to Kitten.

George finally found Alanna’s heartbeat in her throat and let out a long breath of relief.

“Where did she get a damned word of power?” he asked.

Kitten chirped her culpability,  head falling in regret.

George smirked, “Yer da’s taught ya too damn well but I’m kinda glad he did. Dat blasted demon was gonna end us all. Dough I wish ya would’ve told someone otter den me wife. Summun else might’ve hesitated before usin’ it.”

“Forgive me, Baron, but I doubt anyone else would have survived speaking such a word. Besides Master Numair that is.”

“True. I wish de damned fool was here.”

As Kitten took in Alanna’s grey pallor, she had to agree. Numair probably could have thought of a better solution. Papa always knew just what to do.

***

After putting on fresh clothes, Daine and Numair began packing their things. They had just slung on their packs when Daine realized something was missing.

“Where’s Jelly?”

Numair frowned, searching the ground, “I’m afraid I don’t know. I haven’t seen him- it? Does Jelly have a gender? Either way, we don’t have time to search. If my dream last night was any indication, Port Legann desperately needs our help.”

“You saw it too?” she asked him, gaping.

He had to resist the urge to gape in return, “What did you see?”

“The Kraken. Something was singing to it, making it angry. It was tearing apart ships and slamming into the docks at Legann,” Daine shivered, “Something evil was behind it. The Kraken eats anger, it don’t feel it.”

Despite the barely concealed nervousness in her tone, Numair was slightly relieved to find she knew nothing of his conversation with Ozorne. Bowing his head he told her, “I did not see the Kraken, I only saw Alanna about to go fight it.”

The badger didn’t look back from the trail ahead as he said, _It makes sense. Other mortals who have visited the Divine Realms have reported seeing visions of their friends and loved ones in the mortal realms. It’s impossible to tell if they are recent events though, what you saw could have happened weeks ago._

Daine let out a worried breath, “We need to get back.”

Numair nodded, sharing in her concern.

They had barely gotten out of sight of Temptation Lake when a small inky creature flowed into view. It slid over the carpet of grass to stop before Daine, manifesting two tiny arms that reached toward her like a toddler trying to communicate a need for affection. She was quick to answer the call, scooping the creature into her palm.

“Is that you, Jelly?” she asked it.

It nodded just as another inky mass broke away from the shadow of a tree to slither toward Daine as well.

“A friend of yours?” Numair asked Jelly, growing more suspicious by the moment.

Jelly looked down at the other creature with seeming curiosity then made the first sound Daine and Numair had ever heard from it. The gibberish seemed to mean something to the other being because it flattened itself against the ground before raising a piece of itself in what might have been an oath. Finally, Jelly manifested a head and combined a nodding motion with a waving liquid appendage to say, _he is a friend._

Daine, quickly dropping Jelly into the shirt pocket he had inhabited before, picked up the newest addition and placed it in the opposite pocket.

“What do you think we should name the new one?” asked Daine as she and Numair started down the path once more.

“Jelly Two?”

“You’re no help. Guess I’ll have to come up with something.”

“I guess so,” he replied with a chuckle, “I am good for some things though. For example, over the next hill, we should be able to see the Bottomless Canyon. That is if the map from the Divine Codex was to scale.”

It turned out he was correct as, when they crested the next hill, they were met with the awe-inspiring sight. The gaping fissure went on as far as the eye could see in each direction. Parallel lines of different browns and oranges swept across the canyon walls like a scene painted by some great artist.

On one side lay the grassy fields of the western gods, on the other was the sprawling brushlands of the eastern lands.

Daine cut her gaze at Numair, smiling slightly in a teasing but somehow innocent way, “How do you keep all that stuff in your head? It’s fair amazing sometimes.”

“The question you should be asking is whether or not THAT is the first bridge and, if it is, how are we supposed to cross it?”

The bridge Numair gestured at was a simple structure of rope and wood that swayed in the harsh winds that whistled through the canyon. The hemp ropes looked ready to snap at the slightest provocation and the wooden slats were spaced like a smile that was missing every other tooth, half-rotted from constant abuse.

“We’re supposed to cross THERE?” Daine asked, highly unnerved by the thought, “It’ll snap before we even get halfway!”

_It will not break. Like most structures in the Divine Realms, it was made indestructible by the Great Gods’ magic._

Daine glared at the Badger, “There has to be somewhere else to cross.”

_There is not. If you wish to return to the mortal realm, you must cross here._

“May I submit that falling to our doom is also counterintuitive to that objective,” the sarcasm in Numair’s voice was not lost on the Badger, who narrowed his eyes over his shoulder.

_It will NOT break._

“If you say so, Badger,” said Daine, forcing herself to take the next step down the hill.

“If you’d like I can take your pack and you can fly across,” Numair told her.

“I still can’t shift,” she said.

“Right, then perhaps we can minimize the risk. Master Badger, might you be able to take our things across so that we may cross unencumbered?”

_I’m afraid not. Sarra and Weiryn put their magic into the things you carry. If I tried to take them, they would crumble into dust._

“I didn’t know Weiryn cared,” Numair said flatly.

Daine chuckled, “Come now, Numair. I don’t think he hates you.”

“Perhaps not personally but I believe it is a tradition for a father to hate his daughter’s significant other. On principle.”

“I don’t know about all that. I mean, I can’t see you actin’ that way.”

Numair hid the tightening of his throat behind a titter, “Don’t be so sure. Thankfully, I’ll be in the Black God’s embrace long before Kitten reaches maturity.”

Daine looked toward her feet, “It’s sad, ain’t it? We’ll have to watch Kitten grow up from the Black God’s realm.”

Sighing, he offered her a sidelong frown, “That might happen sooner than we’d like, looking at that bridge.”

The Badger huffed, _The bridge has stood for time eternal!_

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Numair and Daine snapped at the same time. They looked at each other and broke into grins.

 _Ugh, mortals!_ said the Badger before disappearing in a cloud of silver magic and reappearing on the other side of the bridge. _There is absolutely nothing to be concerned about!_

“That’s rich when you’re just gonna magic yourself across!” Daine yelled at the Badger.

Her words were lost on the wind but Numair couldn’t help continuing the half-joke, “If one ever needed to define hypocrisy, that would be an excellent example.”

“Right?” Daine said and eyed the bridge warily, “I don’t see how it’s gonna hold us both.”

“I’ll go first,” he said, seeming braver than he felt, “Once I’ve crossed then you can go. How does that sound?”

She weighed that for a moment before nodding, “At least then we won’t both be caught on it when it decides to give. Then again, if it’s gonna do it, it’s more likely to happen when you’re on it. Then I’ll be stuck over here.”

“I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating, magelet,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes mockingly, “You sound like one of those useless court ladies. Now, get movin’ silly man. We ain’t got all day.”

Giving her a final bored look, he took up the rope handrail and proceeded to step onto the first slat. It shook beneath his weight but didn’t give way, lending him the confidence to continue. The wide gaps meant one wayward step would find Numair falling for eons, making his head spin as the endless fall played havoc with his vision. By the time solid ground came into view, he had a throbbing headache.

Hopping over the last of the slats, he passed Daine an encouraging grin over the distance. She grimaced in reply but ultimately stepped onto the bridge. He watched her cross unblinkingly, his heart refusing to slow as his imagination painted pictures of snapping ropes and cracking wood. Then she stopped halfway across and seemed to be struggling against something he couldn’t see.

“Daine! What’s wrong?” he called as panic made his lungs harden. The bridge was swaying violently as she gripped at her shirt, losing her hold on the rail.

“It’s Jelly and the other one!” she yelled, still gripping at her shirt, “Something’s wrong! They’re fighting!”

There was a sharp sound, like rending metal, followed by a neighing screech. Four hurroks descended from the sky to swoop toward the bridge. The structure jerked as Daine ducked away from the fore-talons of the bird-horse hybrids.

Reacting without thought, Numair raised a hand and his magic flew across the distance. The hurrok in the lead exploded, sending bits of gore falling into the chasm below.

In his distraction, Daine must have sorted the inky creatures because she was reaching for her bow as the hurroks wheeled around for another attack.

“Don’t stop! Hurry up and get across and I'll cover you!” he yelled, but she couldn’t hear him over the whistling wind that carried his voice away and tore at the bridge. Gritting his teeth, he sent his magic out to wrap around her, steadying her as she raised her bow. With rapid shots, she sent two of the attacking hurroks spiraling. The one that remained dove for her, its wings tucked into its sides and its talons brandished with promise.

Quickly redirecting his magic, Numair blasted the hurrok with enough magefire to make water instantly evaporate. Once the hurrok was nothing more than ash, carried away on the wind, the bridge settled but Daine made no moves to continue toward solid ground, much to Numair’s frustration. Turning her head, she appeared to be speaking to the inky creature that had appeared on her shoulder.

“Damnit! Whatever you’re saying can wait until your off that blasted bridge!” he yelled at her but she held up hand in signal to wait.

He cursed and was preparing to step back onto the bridge and drag her across when she finally started moving again. When she got within range to see his glare, she stopped and cocked her head at him.

“What? It’s a nice little bridge with the hurroks gone. I mean, it didn’t break. Did it?”

“Don’t jinx it!” he said and reached across the distance to pull her from the bridge and into his arms; half just to reassure himself that she was safe, half as an excuse to pluck the inky creature from her shoulder and hold it up at eye-level, “You have a lot of explaining to do!”

“Don’t be dramatic. Jelly was trying to help,” she replied matter of factly but her calm voice was belied by the way she snuggled into his chest. “It’s the other one that was causing the problems.”

 _I think it’s time to find out exactly where Jelly came from,_ said the Badger and waddled a short distance from the cliff to draw a circle in the dirt, leaving the ends unconnected. _Do you still have the other one?_

Daine nodded and moved away from Numair to untie her belt purse. Something, which Numair assumed was the other creature, thrashed inside.

_Bring it here._

Daine upended the belt purse over the circle and the creature fell to the ground with a plop. It immediately tried to leave the ring only to become flattened against an invisible wall.

_The other one too, Master Numair._

Dropping Jelly into the circle, Numair watched as the Badger closed the loop. Silver mist drifted over the creatures, slowly forming into a mirror-like object. Pictures drifted across its surface, perspectives switching frantically as if the world were spinning before settling on a single image.

Ozorne’s face dominated the tight perspective. Clean cuts on his eyelids, lips, and ears dripped blood which fell against the glass and seeped away.  He opened his mouth and a crimson mist distorted the image.

 _He breathed life into them,_ said the Badger softly, _here in the Divine Realms. See the blizzard in the background? That was shortly after Midwinter._

The image changed and Ozorne was pacing before an obsidian altar, screaming soundlessly. From the alter a shifting mass of jewel-toned magic in the exaggerated shape of a woman, oozed into existence.

_This isn’t good. That is the chaos shrine. If she can manifest there, it is only a matter of time before she breaks from her prison completely._

There was a scream, a high pitched sound that made Numair’s ears ring. Then there was an up-close image of Daine from a low angle. She was smiling, holding out a bit of bread. Behind her, Weiryn and Sarra’s cottage stood as tall as a castle.

“You fed it,” Numair remarked, “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Daine nudged him playfully, neither of them looking away from the memories of the little creature. The image whirled again and became a picture of Daine sitting beside a pond. She looked down into the surface, her features twisting into a mask of pure terror. It was only a trilling sound of alarm that brought her attention to the tauros that stepped from a shimmering tear in the air. The beast was easily twice as tall as Numair, its veiny muscles shivering across its human torso from atop two bovine legs. Its tail twitched in time with a distinctly male part of its anatomy as it caught Daine in its over-sized black eyes. Large nostrils flared within a bull’s muzzle, promising a most terrible fate for the girl who had been put into its path. Daine’s gasp of panic was silent but Numair heard it echo in his ears.

Fists clenching at his sides, Numair felt his fingernails bite into his palms as he imagined Ozorne enduring all manners of torture. It made his stomach revolt but he was able to swallow back the rising bile of his darkness when Ozorne’s voice emerged from the image. “Twenty-seven has gone dark. Find it. I can’t see them and if I don’t know where they are I cannot kill them.”

The image swirled and Numair’s face appeared. It was strange to see himself in such a way, his continence trapped somewhere between deep contemplation and disapproval. Then Ozorne’s ghostly face became superimposed over Numair’s. The former Emperor smiled menacingly and murmured, “There you are, old friend. Good job, Fifteen.”

Shimmering jewel-tones distorted the image, leaving behind the sound of Ozorne’s haughty laughter.

The silver magic melted away, leaving behind one trembling blob and one flattened one.

 _What are those like you called?_ the Badger asked the little creatures.

Jelly raised a piece of itself to form a head and spoke in a mumble.

“Darkings,” Daine breathed, naming the little creatures as if she could understand the strange speech. “They are his spies, but Jelly doesn’t obey him anymore.”

Kneeling, Daine reached into the circle and picked up the second darking. It struggled for a moment until Daine said, “Leaf.”

“Leaf?” Numair asked.

Cupping the suddenly still darking gently in her palm, Daine said, “It moves like a leaf in a windstorm, so that’s its name. Leaf.”

Numair nodded, “Seems like the perfect name.”

“Are you going to stay Ozorne’s spy?” Daine asked Leaf.

The small creature lifted a head-like mass and shook it, resolutely saying that it had also defected to their side.

“It could be lying,” Numair said, the harshness of the statement tempered by his soft tone.

“I don’t think it is,” Daine said, her eyes going distant as if she could see something he could not, “I- I can hear it now. Like one of the people.” Her eyes closed and a single tear fell down her cheek, “Ozorne hurts them when he’s angry. It’s-”

Leaf reached an arm-like tendril out and touched the tear. It absorbed into the darking’s skin, leaving behind a streak of silver.

_Ozorne created them in the Divine Realm, giving them the capacity for individuality, but never gave them autonomy. When you showed Jelly kindness, you awakened him to the power of choice. You have given that same power to Leaf by naming him._

“Because names have power,” said Numair.

_Exactly._

Daine smiled at Numair, a sad expression that spoke to her endless capacity for empathy, “Jelly says he would like to ride with you.”

Numair stooped and retrieved Jelly from the circle, placing him gently on his shoulder. The little darking slid into the shadow of his horsetail.

“He seems to like you- for some reason.”

Numair shrugged, “Must be your influence. Gods know you’re the only one who can tolerate me for an extended period.”

Watching Daine as she placed Leaf in her breast pocket, Numair wondered if he hadn’t known she was divine from the start. Acting purely on her altruistic instinct, she had seduced Ozorne’s allies away from him. Honestly, it was amazing that someone as good as Daine had fallen in love with him, of all people.

“What’s that face all about?” Daine asked, her head cocked to the side in affectionate contemplation.

“I’ll tell you another time. For now, we’d better get going before something else comes along.”

The Badger stiffened, his nose raised to the air as if he had scented something foul, _The other animal gods are calling._

“What do they want?” asked Daine.

Shrugging in a very un-badger-like way, he turned his dark eyes on Daine and Numair, _They aren’t saying but it sounds important. Perhaps they have finally decided to listen to my warnings._ From the Badger’s tone, he didn’t honestly believe that was the reason. Still, there was a bit of hope.

That was until a shriek, like the opening and closing of a rusty gate, echoed in their ears. Immediately, the Badger’s head fell and he let out a huff, _Ah, so that is what it’s come to._

Numair felt a shiver down his spine as something dark brushed against his skin. He didn’t know how but he understood the source of the sound. “The Sorrows gate is open.”

_Slaughter and Starvation escaped months ago. Now Malady has been freed._

Daine looked to Numair, fear in her eyes, and he explained in a distant voice, “The Three Sorrows. They sow chaos. Uusoae will get stronger now.”

“Can we stop them?” Daine asked desperately.

The Badger sighed, _Only the animal gods can keep them from causing havoc. We can’t stop them but we can slow them down. Such was the power given to us by Father Universe. I don’t like the idea of leaving you two alone, but even one grain of sand can tip the scales in Uusoae’s favor._

“Go,” Daine said softly, “we’ll be alright on our own.”

Grumbling, the Badger looked toward the ground in defeat, _Do not stray from the path. Do you understand?_

“Do not worry, Master Badger, we are quite adept at navigating harsh country,” Numair assured him. Moving to Numair’s side, Daine nodded her agreement.

With a last huff, the Badger disappeared in a swirl of silver mist.

Daine and Numair remained in place long after the Badger had disappeared, rooted to the spot by the weight of the world.

“You think the animal gods will do alright?” Daine murmured.

“I can’t say, magelet, but I can hope.”

“I s’pose that’s all we can do.”


	11. Where Games Are Played

The path took them across a savannah where acacia trees dotted a landscape of tall grasses. In the distance, a river as wide and deep as the Zekoi flowed swiftly but, unlike the Carthaki river, it ran crystal clear without human greed to poison it.

“This is likely what Carthak looked like before the rise of the empire,” Numair mused, scanning the scenery until his gaze reached the jaggedly eroded mountain pass on the horizon.

“It’s nice, if you don’t mind the heat,” Daine replied, glancing at him over her shoulder with a look that could only be described as coy. It was the type of expression that belonged on a flirtatious courtier, not his wild little magelet.

Focusing on the rusty dirt beneath his boots rather than the somewhat unnerving smile, he told her, “If I’m withering, I can only imagine how you feel. If you’d like, we can stop for the day and rest until evening. It will be cooler then.”

“I think we’d best. At this pace, we ain’t gonna get far anyway.”

Under the shade of one of the sprawling trees, they ate a small lunch resting against the tree trunk. They sat close enough that they were touching but not so close that Numair couldn’t see Daine’s expression as she watched the tall grass play in the cloying breeze.

Just then, a choir of chirps sounded from above, and both he and Daine looked up. In the tree above were three sunbirds. One of them Numair recognized instantly; he would know those intelligent and soulful eyes anywhere. “Hello, Preet.”

She fluttered down from the tree to land in front of him, bowing her head in greeting.

The other two sunbirds followed suit. From the awkward movements and dull feathers of the smallest bird, it was easy for Numair to deduce that it was a fledgling. Preet had moved similarly when she had first learned to fly.

The other sunbird, who was only slightly larger than the fledgling, landed beside Preet and started preening her feathers affectionately.

“Ah, so this is what you’ve been up to since your return,” said Numair, feeling a little aged by the knowledge that his little sunbird had a family of her own. When they’d met he’d barely been more than a hatchling himself, now they had both grown up.

Peeking out from behind Numair’s hair, Jelly looked curiously between the mage and the sunbird family. When the fledgling fluttered over to land on Numair’s shoulder, Jelly let out a squeak and disappeared into Numair’s collar. For a former spy, the darking was quite shy.

The fledgling twittered incessantly in Numair’s ear, bringing a grin to Daine’s lips. “Tweet wants to know if you used to walk along the bottom of rivers?”

“I did. I had a teacher at the university who taught me all there was to know about the Zekoi and the animals that lived there. It isn’t nearly as exciting as it sounds but it was one of the few times I didn’t have to hide my ability to connect to the world around me. Master Seebo never treated me like I was strange. In fact, she often made me feel like an idiot.”

When Numair came out of the short explanation, he found Daine and Tweet looking at him with their heads cocked to one side as if they were trying to puzzle out some strange occurrence. “What?”

Daine straightened, “You never told me about that.”

“Some things must remain a mystery,” he joked, “you already know me far too well.”

The fledgling started on another stream of chirps and Numair could guess she was asking dozens of questions by the way Daine chuckled behind her hand, “Apparently there are a few stories I haven’t heard about your days at the university.”

Preet let out a chiding trill and Tweet fluttered back to her mother’s side. Then Preet's mate waddled forward to bow regally, his wings outstretched.

“His name is Seerak,” was all Daine had to say. There was no need for further translation as Numair bowed his head in return, a show of respect.

“It is nice to meet you, Seerak.”

Stepping back, Seerak and Preet rubbed their heads together before he and Tweet took wing.

A large baobab tree became the source of a dazzling display. Taking flight from the high branches, hundreds of Sunbirds joined Seerak and Tweet as they shot straight into the sky. Their reflective feathers caught the sun’s rays as they spiraled, creating an explosion of color.

Stealing a glance at Daine, he found her entranced by the scene.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

Never looking away from the way the light caught in her eyes, he agreed, “Yes, it is.”

She glanced at him and he quickly averted his gaze back to the display, “There are so many amazing things here, it almost makes me wish I could stay longer. I doubt anything in the mortal realms could compare.”

As the sunbirds returned to their home tree one by one, Daine’s gaze dropped, “I don’t know ‘bout that. If you weren’t here to make things seem sensible, I think I’d go mad.”

“Being mad isn’t so terrible,” he told her, smirking, “according to some, yourself included, I was never sane.”

She chuckled before eyeing him sideways, “That’s true, but I don’t think I could stay here for more than a few days.”

Ignoring her point, Numair pushed himself to his feet, “We should get some rest while we can. Considering how perilous our journey has been, sleep deprivation could prove our end.”

Daine sighed but nodded.

 

 

Numair was pulled from the haze of dreamless sleep and into a grand marble hallway. The pillars that lined the walls alternated black and white and were topped with reliefs of golden leaves.

The hall seemed to stretch forever. No, not forever. In the distance, there was a door that stood barely open. In a few strides, Numair crossed into the dark room beyond the threshold and found that it contained a black and white checkered table.

Daine stepped into the halo of light; her eyes fixed on the table. As if summoned by her proximity, a piece appeared in the queen’s square. It shimmered in various jewel tones, shifting forms at regular intervals. The piece looked up at Daine and formed a smile, its arms morphing into tentacles that slithered across the board like vines.

“Chaos,” Daine whispered.

“Yes,” said a disembodied voice that rang with power, “and these are her gatekeepers.”

Where a queen’s side castle would have been was a three-headed dog with teeth that dripped jewel-toned ooze. Opposite the dog, an eight-armed baboon raised its hands to reveal four swords along with Daine and Numair’s severed heads.

Daine’s gasp pulled Numair forward, “Discord and Violence.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and she breathed out with relief, “They’re...charming.”

“It’s their nature,” said the voice, “they can’t help what they are.”

Numair moved to stand beside Daine, watching as the rest of black’s ranked pieces fell into place. Pointing at each new arrival, Numair named them all for Daine’s benefit. A giant crow surrounded by a poisonous cloud stood as the king’s side bishop. “Slaughter.” Next was a skeletal horse with eyes that cried black tears. “Starvation.” Beside the queen stood a giant rat with extra long fangs. “And Malady. The Three Sorrows.”

Ozorne appeared as Starvation’s opposite, in the space designated for the queen’s knight. Daine’s eyes fixed on the pieces, anger and fear warring across her features. Numair placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort and she relaxed, albeit only slightly.

The pawns came next. Most were non-descript immortals but there were a few men Numair recognized; the two princes of the Copper Isles and the most recent figurehead King of Scanra. Standing right in front of Uusaoe was Inar Handensra, the light catching his ruby eye as he smirked knowingly up at Numair and Daine.

Finally, in the king’s space, appeared the swirling void of The Chaos Realm It pulled the killer unicorn from the space in front of it and ripped it to pieces. Another immortal filled the area but it too was torn apart. The cycle continued, new pieces forming only to fall into the abyss.

On the white side of the board, each of the great gods stood in all their glory. The king’s square was held by Mithros hoisting a great round shield. The powerful god was the epitome of male perfection, dark-skinned and well-muscled. Beside Mithros was the Great Mother Goddess, her rounded stomach wrapped in the skin of the earth. The Black God, in his cloak of shadow, stood as the king’s side castle. On the queen’s side was a woman with pure white eyes: Shakith- the goddess of time. The Banjiku god, known to scholars as the World’s Snake, and Jihuk, the desert lady, were bishops while the Smith god and Wave Walker were knights.

White’s pawns were people Numair knew well. King Jonathan stood on the far left, Queen Thayet by his side. They both looked as majestic as ever, wearing the crowns they rarely wore in real life. Standing opposite the king, Alanna wore shining armor as a phantom wind swept through her shoulder-length hair. Beside her was George, his eyes scanning the black pieces from above a secretive smirk. Next in line was the giant, Uma, who had helped Daine and Numair in Dunlath. Beside Thayet stood Kaddar, the new Emperor of Carthak. He was completely impassive, an expression Carthak demanded of him, but the pearl-cast lilies that grew around his feet told the story of his gentler heart. Evin Larse sat atop his pony with a curved sword in hand. Months at war had done little to banish the shadow in the young man’s eyes, the loss of his second-in-command leaving behind invisible scars that would likely never heal.

At the center of the pawns, Daine and Numair stood side-by-side.

“The game begins,” said the booming voice and the pieces started to move on their own. One by one, white’s pawns were struck down until only Numair and Ozorne remained. At least Numair managed to cut Ozorne down in the end but that left him as the only pawn standing between the ranked pieces and chaos.

Black’s pawns quickly surrounded what was left of white’s pieces and it was then that the Queen of Chaos entered the fray. In a wave, she consumed all of the pieces left on the board and then retreated into the void that never moved from the king’s space.

“That is a rather bleak outcome. May I suggest resetting the board?” said Numair, sounding far calmer than he felt.

“As you wish,” replied the voice and the pieces were made whole once more.

Reaching out, Numair took the pawns and changed their positions. At the center, he placed the King and Alanna with their significant others by their sides. Evin, Kaddar, and Uma remained in the same places while Daine and Numair stood at opposite ends of the board.

It was a decision based on strategy but it was only when Daine jokingly remarked, “I don’t know if I like being so far from you,” that Numair understood the lesson the voice was attempting to teach him.

Swallowing hard, he said, “Now.”

The pieces moved once more but the battle played out very differently as Ozorne made his way toward Daine and Inar fought Numair. Kaddar and George fought against the Copper Isle princes while Alanna, Thayet, and Jonathan took on Scanrans. In the end, the Black God swept Thayet, George, and Uma from the board but the rest of white’s pieces remained standing as Chaos was sucked into the void. Ozorne and the remaining immortals were pulled down with her, their pleas for justice echoing in their wake.

When the game was over, the voice spoke but it was no longer without a direction. On the far side of the board, a man draped in a robe of shifting pastels stepped out of the shadows. He was ghostly with eyes that contained the entirety of the night sky. Numair recognized him as the Dream King, Gainel. “Unfortunately, the battle with Uusoae is not a game. The Black God may not stand on the side of chaos but he will not spare those on our side.”

“Not all the pieces are on the board either,” Numair told him, “What of the other gods?”

Moving to stand at Gainel’s side, the Graveyard Hag cast her gap-toothed smile on Numair and winked. “We stand on the edge of the board,” she told him in her cackling voice.

“It is not a comfortable position to be in,” said another voice, it’s tone sliding against Numair’s skin like silk. A god with a strange blue goatee and wearing the uniform of a Copper Island naval officer, stepped into the light on Gainel’s other side and bowed with a flourish, “It is nice to meet you both. I am Kyprioth.”

“You are the ones who play the game,” said Numair.

“See? I told you he was clever,” said the Hag with a grin, stabbing the tiled floor with her ebony walking stick.

Kyprioth did not seem impressed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. With each flick of his fingers, his beard shifted color and form, “He is that but he is also a terrible liar. I prefer my friends to be a little more...dishonest.”

“Lies will not help us keep Uusoae from consuming the world,” said Gainel easily, dropping his gaze to the board, “We can only move the pieces, it is up to those on the board to win.”

“That’s an awful lot to put on us,” said Daine quietly, her head bowed sadly.

“We know, dearie, but we don’t like to lose, so we have to put our best pieces at the front,” said the goddess, her head bowed tiredly.

Daine stood taller, pinning the three gods with a fierce expression. “When this game is over, I’m quits. I’m not playing your games anymore. Understand?”

Kyprioth shrugged nonchalantly, “Life is a game, child.”

“Life might be a game,” said Numair darkly, “but we’re not your pawns.”

Kyprioth smiled menacingly, “I see.”

“There are many paths to victory and there are many choices that could make this game turn out a thousand different ways,” said the Graveyard Hag, a note of anger in her tone as she cut her eyes at Kyprioth, “so the question from there becomes what pieces are you willing to sacrifice?”

Numair already knew the answer. There were many things he would be willing to do to save the world but losing Daine wasn’t one of them.

Gasping into wakefulness, Numair got to his feet and started pacing beneath the shade of the tree. “There has to be a way to sway things in our favor. For example, letting our friends know about the darkings could be the difference between victory or defeat and it would simply be a matter of getting a message to them. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind. Would you Preet?” Preet chirped her agreement form where she perched on the branch above him, “The problem is, how to detect the darkings. Or, better yet, make the darkings understand that they are not Ozorne’s slaves. We can’t just name them all. We don’t even know how many he created.”

“You’re tearing at your hair,” Daine said dully, sitting up in the bedroll and rubbing her eyes.

Numair was quickly pulled from his thoughts and into the realm of puzzlement as he realized she was right. He sighed and let his hands fall to his sides.

Sliding from beneath Numair’s collar, Jelly mumbled something in the strange darking language. Preet chirped another agreement and Daine said, “Well, that settles that, then.”

Numair might have asked what had been settled except that Jelly flowed back under his shirt and into his sleeve, trickling off his fingertips to fall on Preet’s back. In a gust of wind, Preet disappeared into the sky.

“Jelly just volunteered to help,” Numair deduced.

Daine nodded as she settled back onto the bedroll and started vacantly tracing the tree branches above, “Now we just have to decide how we’re going to beat Uusoae’s army.”

“One thing at a time, we have to get back first,” he told her gently, but as they packed up their camp to continue their journey, a new weight settled on them. In the chill of the descending night, they made their way through the savannah and into the infamous Stone Maze, unsure what the next day would bring.


	12. Where The Maze Ends

As they entered the twisting path created by jagged outcroppings and erect stones, a pulsing red light, the gods’ battle with Uusoae, cut across the sky and lent itself to the shadows that danced menacingly. A crawling sensation danced up Numair’s spine as he felt dozens of eyes on him, each new shadow taking the form of a monster in his mind’s eye.

“You feel it too?” Daine asked from behind him.

“Yes but it’s hard to determine exactly what ‘it’ is.”

From her shirt pocket, Leaf emerged to mumble something. Shaking her head, Daine said, “Something is here. Leaf heard Ozorne’s voice. He thinks there might be another darking around but he can’t talk to it.”

“Then we had best use caution,” Numair said, though he didn’t need to.

They didn’t get far before the trail turned treacherous. The thinning rock shelf forced them to remain close to the vibrating stone wall of the mountain. If that wasn’t bad enough, about halfway up, a chaos vent cut the trail into a tightrope for at least twelve feet. It oozed down the cliff, dripping to the sharp rocks below like blood from a wound.

Daine stared into the swirling magic blindly, taking slow steps closer as if she were possessed. The Badger’s warnings echoed in Numair’s mind as he stepped into her path, breaking her line of sight. Shaking her head, she spoke in a disturbingly empty voice, “What are we waiting for? Let’s get moving.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t get close to the vent,” he said, his trepidation echoing against the stone. “Stay here. I’ll cross alone then I can use my magic to lift you over.”

“I can make my own decisions!” she suddenly growled at him, “Hobs bobs! I’d jump off this damned cliff right now if it meant putting an end to all the death!”

Numair stared at her in open shock, unable to speak to the anger in her eyes. Then she blinked and rubbed at her furrowed brow, “I- I don’t know why I said that.”

Numair looked over his shoulder at the chaos vent and frowned when he heard a hissing voice whisper through his mind.  _ You can’t save her. Not unless you join us. _

Turning back to Daine, he captured her gaze with authority, “I have a theory but we’ll talk about it later. For now, listen to me for once and stay here.”

Before she could argue, he pressed himself against the rock wall and started edging the pool of shifting sludge. As he passed the magic bubbled and the voice continued to speak to his most profound doubts and desires.  _ The Graveyard Hag manipulates, she deceives, but chaos does not need lies. Join us and you will be free to live as you wish. _

_ I want peace,  _ he silently argued, _ You will only bring forth more war and destruction. _

_ Is that what the tricksters told you? They are wrong. We only wish to strip the mortal realm of its shackles. To let true freedom reign supreme. Once we have consumed the divine realm, mortals will be able to remake the world as they please. You could live your life without their selfish influence. You could save her. _

“Numair!”

Daine’s yell crashed through his mind, obliterating the hissing voice. The fog that clouded his vision cleared and he found Daine staring at him from across the pool of swirling jewel tones.

She let out a sigh of relief, “I thought she had you there for a moment.”

Numair smirked, trying to dispel the lines of worry from her face, “She ensnared me in a debate. I’m afraid I couldn’t resist.”

“Figures,” Daine said and put her back against the rock face.

“What do you think you’re doing!” he cried as she toed chaos’ edge. For a moment he wanted to lift her away but if he did, he risked letting his magic touch the vent. The way Uusoae’s voice egged him on practically guaranteed it. The amount of chaos his unleashed gift could cause would make him a very valuable ally. “Did you not hear me when I said I would lift you across?!”

Stopping for a moment, Daine said, “Don’t waste your magic. Besides, as long as you keep yelling at me, I’ll be fine.”

Gritting his teeth, he kept his unblinking focus on her feet, waiting for his worst fears to manifest in reality, “Damnit, Daine! Do you always have to be so impossibly stubborn?!”

“Good, keep it up. I can’t even hear her over your whining,” she told him flatly.

Once she was firmly on his side, Numair let out a growling breath that masked his relieved sigh, “I swear, you are determined to give me a blasted heart attack.”

Cupping his cheek, she grinned far too widely for decency’s sake, “You worry too much.”

Numair was caught between warmth and annoyance, so lost in his mixed up feelings that he didn’t notice the tendrils of silver thread wrap around Daine’s ankles until she fell into him, knocking him to the ground. She kicked violently and dug her fingers into the rock, desperately trying to free herself as she was dragged toward the cliff.

Numair tried to push himself off the rock, to catch her outstretched arms but stone hands silenced his cry of alarm and pinned him on his back. He struggled against the confines up until Daine’s scream fell off the edge, and his heart stopped.

Unable to think past the crushing grief, Numair let the stone embrace drag him downward, trapping him in a cocoon of granite. A chill danced across his skin, but the fear of imprisonment had been conquered so long past that the numbness that settled over him could only have one source.

Daine. She was… his bleeding heart couldn’t find the will to acknowledge what his torn soul knew. All he could do was lay there and wait for Oblivion to steal him away from his mortal form.

_ Numair? _

Her voice was like a ghostly whisper that reverberated in his ears and he felt the locket at his wrist warm. A magic older than time brought his shadowy gift to the surface, turning the air so cold he could see his breath dance before his eyes. The ice crept into every crevice it could find and expanded, making the rock crack violently. It crumbled, revealing the sunlight beyond.

_ Numair! _

He frowned when he heard her voice again. It was louder this time as if she were calling his name from somewhere nearby. When he grabbed at the sound, he understood the source. They were still connected.

Getting to his feet, Numair peered over the cliff and found no evidence of her demise. Hope warmed his frozen lungs, nearly suffocating him.

Without weighing the consequences, he raised the bracelet at his wrist. Deft fingers flicked open the locket but he never looked at the tiny portrait within or the black-encased shattering of copper that stood as it’s opposite. Gathering his magic, he let it permeate the air and seek out the essence it craved. In an instant, he was transported to a cave where dozens of spidren stood around a figure wrapped in glowing silver web. The human heads set on black tarantula forms peered down at a body.

“If she’s dead Ozorne will send us to Oblivion!” said one of the lisping voices.

“He is not as powerful as he once was,” another of the creatures said, “There is no point letting one so...scrumptious go untasted.”

“Yes, yes,” the largest spidren agreed and moved forward, her fangs bared as she bent toward the body.

Something inside Numair broke and his ability to think logically disappeared. His gift tore away from him, reaching for the monsters to rip them to pieces. Violence coursed through Numair in a way it never had before, embracing the destruction that his power caused.

A spidren jumped at him and he acted on impulse, with no regard for his well being. He struck out with his magic, throwing the creature to the ground. His fists came down, over and over again until black blood was spraying hot across his face. It was when he could no longer raise his arms that he realized the creature was dead.

“Numair?”

Hearing Daine’s voice, he crawled the short distance to where her body lay. The spidren webs had melted away, leaving her to stare blankly up at the cave ceiling. Slowly her eyes focused on his face and her hand rose to brush his cheekbone. Wild magic flitted across his skin and his gift surged. The sensation broke through the ice that had consumed him, thawing his heart so that it could pound painfully against his ribcage.

“You’re- you’re-” he stammered, unable to put his voice to the dark emotions that were afraid she wasn’t real, that recent events had been nothing more than a delusion.

“Not dead?” she asked raspily and captured his gaze, “I couldn’t just leave you. You get in too much trouble without me.”

She tried to sit up and swayed. That part of him that was compelled to catch her reached out but didn’t stop at merely steadying her. He swept her up in his arms and crushed her to him. Like they had a million times, her arms went around his neck but she seemed unable to stop there either. Her fingers tangled in the hair at his nape, dragging him down so that their lips met in a searing kiss.

His long fingers trailed down her back as he pulled away to search her face, to find that last piece of evidence that he wasn’t just dreaming. He found it in her eyes. Those smokey depths that had been his lifeline for so long he couldn’t imagine living without them.

A small husky voice told him, “No,” and small hands guided his lips back to hers. It was then that his last shreds of inhibition were ripped from him. The dark tendrils of his gift, that a moment before had been so vicious, twisted around them like a gentle caress and her wild magic came out to meet it. Sparkling bronze enveloped them, tying them together in a way that could never be broken.

The mixing of magic and passion left Numair breathless and everything slowed as he took the time to memorize the taste, smell, and feel of her.

She was warm beneath his hands. Warm and so wonderfully alive. Emboldened by that fact, a purely joyful laugh escaped him and he swept her into his arms. Cradling her to him, but unable to remain steady on watery legs, he carried her from the cave and found an oasis just outside the mouth. In his peripherals, he saw a living shadow- Leaf- disappear into the darkness, leaving them alone.

Moonlight reflected off the still waters and danced through the stumpy palm trees but Numair could see no beauty in it. He was consumed by the way the silver highlighted Daine’s wild curls and caught in her eyes, making them glow.

Collapsing onto the soft sand near the edge of the water, Numair’s thoughts escaped through his lips uninhibited, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I know. I thought the same thing when the rock swallowed you up,” she said and shifted in his embrace until she was straddling him. Framing his face between her hands, she pressed against him until he was laying on his back, “but we’re both alive.”

Each movement after that became a momentous decision, starting when her hands found their way under his shirt so that her fingernails could rake through the hair on his chest. The sensation filled him with a desire he had no will to stifle but he caught her finger beneath the fabric, gently stilling them to capture her gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked her quietly, unsure if he wanted her to say yes or no.

“I’ve never been surer of anything. Are you?”

“No,” he answered honestly, “but I don’t want to stop.”

Some things were as old as time. Sacrilegious or not, they were a part of the world that would remain until Mother Flame was extinguished and Father Universe collapsed.

With his love above him, Numair wondered at the beauty of such ancient rituals.

The way the shadows of leaves patterned across her olive skin when she removed her shredded shirt and the playful twist of her bow-shaped mouth as she leaned back to look at him with such heat it made him shiver. The way his hands moved of their own volition, finding her breasts and eliciting a moan from her that he answered with an animalistic growl when she started untying his trousers. And, finally, the way she bit her lip as her body tightened around him. She didn’t stop moving until he shuddered his release, collapsing onto his chest and nuzzling his collarbone sleepily.

In the haze that followed, Numair was only vaguely aware of his thoughts until they emerged as a breathy and awe-filled whisper, “Marry me.”

Taken aback, she sat up to search his features. When she found only complete sincerity, she heaved a deep sigh, “No, Numair. Not when-” her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken words to hang above them like a shadow.

He caught her chin when she tried to look away, forcing her to maintain eye contact, “I can’t know what the future will hold, Daine, but I do know that I’ve never felt as empty as I did when I thought I’d never see you again. I want you by my side for the rest of my life.”

The unfathomable sadness in her features was a reflection of his own. “You’re my mate. Can't- can't that be enough for you?”

He gave her a gentle smile that spoke to his own stubbornness, “No.”

She cocked her head slightly as she smiled at him, “Maybe if you’re very good, I’ll change my mind.”

Numair wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, “What if I’m very bad?”

“Still, maybe.”

“You are a torturess,” he groaned comically, “And a temptress.”

“Perhaps, but I’m always going to love you. No matter if we say the vows or not.”

The promise in her voice sent a shiver down his limbs. Numair rolled her onto her back so he could crush his lips to hers and drink in that sweet wine that made his heart race and his thoughts disappear. When he pulled back, they were both breathless.

Catching a warm droplet on her thumb, Daine rubbed the wayward tear into his skin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry.”

“I try to avoid it when possible,” he replied with a strange combination of grimace and a sad smile. 

“Why?”

He shrugged, “Ridiculous social conformity.”

“Well, no one should tell you not to cry,” she said as an answering tear escaped to catch on the curl that rested on her cheek, “just like the gods don’t get to say if we belong to each other or not.”

Numair brushed the curl behind her ear, removing the captured tear from view, “You make a good point. I suppose no vows could change how much I love you. In fact, I’m hoping the sun will never rise again so I can bask in this feeling for eternity.”

She giggled, “You’re the silliest man in all the realms.”

“Yes, but I’m your silly man,” he touched a fingertip to her nose, “and you’re my stubborn magelet. ”

“That’s the truth.”

“The only truth that matters, in the end,” Numair said, quietly conceding defeat.

“Right.”


	13. Where Allies Become Friends

After bathing in the oasis spring, they retrieved their things (Leaf emerging only once they were both clothed) and found a different cave to rest in as the sun rose to bathe the world in scorching heat. Despite the added warmth, they remained close to each other as if they were afraid to be apart for even a heartbeat.

Once the sun began its descent, they set off down the trail at a slow pace.

“Stormwings,” Daine said the moment they arrived at the Sea of Sand. The smile in her voice told Numair that she recognized these specific stormwings.

With a mischievous expression, she stalked toward a clump of brush and burst through it with a casual, “Hello.”

Pulled behind her, Numair emerged from the tangled branches just in time to see Rikash startle, “Don’t you make NOISE?”

“You revel in sowing fear but you don’t care to feel it yourself?” Numair asked innocently.

Rikash sneered at him, “Your’s taste much sweeter, Longshanks. Though it’s absent at the moment and that makes my stomach churn.”

Numair bowed formally, if not sarcastically, “Glad to be of service.”

A crowned female stormwing with dark skin and an even darker crown of black glass waddled forward to cackle, “If we did not owe you a debt, we wouldn’t be here at all, so you had best be grateful.” The queen became contrite within a span of a blink, her head bowing forward, “Though Rikash tells me I should apologize for not killing Ozorne while I had the chance.”

Daine bowed to the stormwing queen Barzah, “Don’t worry about it, your majesty. I know you gave it your best.”

The queen’s consort, Hebakh, waddled to his queen’s side. The exact opposite of his mate, in both color and manner, he fidgeted restlessly as he spoke, “We have not put the matter aside. One day he will pay for caging us. In the meantime, we will repay your freeing us by ferrying you across the sands and to the edge of the Dragonlands.”

As if on cue, eight stormwings took up positions on the corners of two rope nets.

“Your mother made these slings so that we could bare you across,” said Rikash, gesturing toward the nets with a wing, “It will not be a comfortable ride but it is the quickest way across the desert.”

Daine and Numair nodded and settled into the center of each of the nets without complaint. The stormwings at the corners lifted off, the net tangled around their claws. The wind was scorching but welcome beneath the blazing sun. The dunes seemed to go far on forever in each direction, but Numair took comfort in the fact that he was far above the sand that shimmered with heat.

“Have you heard the news, mage?” asked Queen Barzha as she came to soar close to his net.

“Likely not. Communication has been lacking during our travels.”

“Those stormwings who had aligned with Ozorne have begun to abandon him. He will always have the support of his flock and Queen Jochull- she’s not a stormwing, she’s a void where a stormwing should be- but things are beginning to look up for us. The stormwings do not like how many of their own have been killed in Ozorne’s games and now that his spies have abandoned him, many are realizing he is not as powerful as they believed.”

“It makes sense. Ozorne has always been rather talented at cultivating alliances but maintaining them is not his strong suit.”

“He spoke of you often while we were safely caged and therefore unable to silence his ramblings. He hates you more than anyone. I have to wonder, what could you have done to garner such loathing?”

Numair shrugged, “Nothing specific. I simply remained steadfast to my morality while he remained trapped in his hate. It wasn’t any one reason or event.”

“Well, let's hope that his hate isn’t your demise. Not if we wish to keep Uusoae from devouring the world. I’m not foolish enough to put any faith in anything the Graveyard Hag has to say-”

“That’s wise of you.”

“But I’m also aware enough to know that you and Weiryn’s daughter are likely the only mortals who could send her back to her cage. Perhaps the others are right and I am giving into false hope, but we all have our reasons for fighting on. Things we care about.”

“What is your reason, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The queen turned to look at her consort who was speaking to Rikash and Daine but Numair couldn’t hear what they talked about with the wind sweeping the words away. Still, Daine was smiling and that made Numair’s heart warm.

“Much the same as you, I suppose,” Barzha eventually replied, “Even us stormwings know what love is.”

“Love binds us all.”

“It does that. Now get some rest, mage. You look like you’ve been dragged across the desert by the Horse Lords and once you reach the Dragonlands, the REAL fight will begin.”

Exhausted, Numair followed Barzha’s advice and settled back to sleep through the remainder of the flight.

He felt like he had only barely closed his eyes when Rikash squawked, “Wake up!” pulling Numair back into himself with a start.

The mage grimaced at the cackling stormwing after rubbing the sleep from his eyes and realizing that they had not even begun their descent. “Do you have a personal vendetta against me or do you get some sort of pleasure out of tormenting people?”

Rikash’s shrug was made awkward by his spread wings, “If I’m honest, tormenting you is so entertaining I can’t help myself but beyond that, I find I don’t mind you. You know, when you're not an idiot.”

“You sound like Daine.”

“Don’t insult me. She barely speaks common past that horrid accent.”

Numair smirked, “Admit it, you like her.”

Eyeing the mage sideways, Rikash replied in a falsely nonchalant voice, “Don’t put words in my mouth. If anything, I respect her. She’s strangely honorable for an unrepentant stormwing killer.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly the answer I was expecting.”

Rikash rolled his eyes, “And what were you expecting?”

“I was expecting a sneer and a denial.”

Rikash eyed the mage sideways, “I’m not a liar. I never was.”

“Is that so? I take it you were not born a stormwing then.”

“I already warned you once about putting words in my mouth, Lankin, do it again and I’ll tell the others to drop you.”

“Well, that is an admission if I’ve ever heard one. It makes me wonder what kind of man you were that you would save a wolf-cub.”

There was a long silence as Rikash stared blankly into the horizon, “The kind who flourished in war. I suppose that means I’m not much different now, feathers not-withstanding. It’s always run in my blood. Only my great-great-granddaughter managed to break the mold, though that proved her end.”

“Ah, and who was she?” Numair was genuinely curious but his curiosity proved harmful when the stormwing replied with all the reluctance of someone confessing a secret they had carried for far too long.

“Merian Moonsword. The Rider who died saving Daine’s life.”

Numair bowed his head in regret, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, mage. The only thing I find regrettable about her death is that I have officially outlived my entire family. I thought it was doomed to end with her sellsword father but she managed to redeem our blood-soaked family. I am proud of her.”

At that moment Rikash appeared more human than any stormwing Numair had met. It was a realization that finally made him understand Rikash’s motives. In the end, he was a man paying for the sins of his past.

“Do you think Ozorne can be redeemed?” Numair asked, the question escaping him in a pained croak.

“No, even with the empathy granted to stormwings, Ozorne never managed to care about anyone but himself.” Rikash’s arrogant demeanor changed to regret in an instant, “That is why I woke you. I think Ozorne’s plan will not end with his death.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure but if you think about it, clever mage, you will come to the same conclusion. Do you believe that his ultimate goal in aligning with Uusoae was simply to see you dead?”

Numair sneered, “I assumed he planned to destroy everything I cared about first.”

“Perhaps but I’m not foolish enough to believe Ozorne is that narrow-minded. There is something we do not know.” Rikash glanced to where Daine was sleeping, “Unfortunately, Daine believes simply killing Ozorne will end his influence over you both but we know different, don’t we?”

“You’re right,” Numair sighed, “Not that she would understand that. She is stubborn to a fault.”

“You have no room to speak, mage,” said Rikash knowingly, “We will be at the border soon. I had better wake Daine for our impending descent.”

“Try not to give her a heart attack,” Numair warned and the stormwing chuckled.

“And illicit your wrath? I might be cold-hearted but I’m not stupid. Besides, I would prefer not to end up on the receiving end of an arrow.”

“Excellent choice, my lord.”


	14. Wher Dragons Meet

The moment the stormwings set them down, Numair and Daine moved to stand beside each other. Without even realizing it, their hands linked as they closed the distance between them during the flight.

Barzha, Hebakh, and Rikash landed before them and bowed politely.

Numair bowed in return, “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Our debt to you is paid,” said the stormwing queen formally before turning hard eyes on Daine, “but if you see Ozorne before we do, please give him our regards.”

“I will,” Daine replied, bowing her head in return.

Barzha and Hebakh took wing but Rikash remained behind, “Be polite to the dragons. They aren’t as forgiving as I am.”

“Thanks, Rikash,” Daine said, smiling kindly at the stormwing.

Rikash ignored her in favor of pinning Numair with a dark glare, “Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid, mage.”

“I’ll do my best,” Numair replied with a respectful bow of his head.

With a nod, Rikash followed his flock into the sky.

“What did he tell you?” Daine demanded as soon as the stormwing was out of earshot.

Numair turned to smirk at her, “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

“That’s a nothing answer if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Well, it is the only answer I am willing to divulge at the moment.”

“Fine! Keep your damned secrets.”

Putting her hands on her hips, Daine turned toward the fiery doorway that logic dictated was the gateway to the Dragonlands. “I’m more worried about what we’re supposed to do with this.”

Numair reached out with his gift to test the magic involved. What he felt was unlike anything he had ever experienced. “That’s real fire but there must be a way through. I doubt Rikash would just leave if it were impossible to enter.”

_ Be gone, mortals! The dragons do not wish to know your kind! _ said a booming voice that echoed through their minds like a long hallway.

“On the contrary,” said Numair with overt formality, “There is a dragonet that knows a great deal about us. My companion and I are the guardians of Skysong, daughter of Flamewing.”

_ The true guardian of a dragon is brave. You are shrinking and cautious beings. Now leave! _

“Oh, really,” said Daine and before Numair could even understand what she was planning, she had walked right into the flaming portal.

“Damnit Daine!” he said and, holding his breath against his better judgment, he followed her through.

The heat was intense but just as Numair was sure he had followed Daine into oblivion, he emerged on the other side completely unharmed.

Opening eyes he hadn’t known he had closed, Numair found Daine standing before him with a smirk, “Looks like it was a test.”

Numair glared at her but had a hard time holding the expression when she patted his cheek playfully. “Don’t worry so much. Look, Leaf thought it was fun.”

From her shoulder, the little blob was bouncing up and down like a puppy.

“That only means he’s as insane as you are,” Numair grumbled and retrieved the handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“And you love me for it,” she told him before turning away to take in the scenery. Awe filled her eyes as she scanned the towering city of pearly white marble and crystalline bridges surrounded by rolling hills of green grass on which gemstones grew as flowers and herd animals roamed without boundaries.

Numair wasn’t sure which was more beautiful, the Dragonlands or the way Daine was enamored by them. “I really do.”

“Wait,” said the booming voice, no longer coming from inside their minds but from all around them, “Guides will come for you.”

A moment later two dragonets rose over one of the hills to trot toward them. One was about the size of a mastiff with scales that shimmered like sunlight on steel. The other was as tall as a miniature pony with tiny dark blue wings that were still too small to fly. Other than that, they looked just like Kitten with slender reptilian bodies and slit-pupil amber eyes that took in the world inquisitively.

The smaller one ran ahead of its companion, skidding to a stop in front of Daine and Numair and bouncing excitedly.

_ We’re supposed to take you to grandsire. Are you really mortals? You’re the first we’ve ever seen. It’s fascinating to meet you. I’m Icefall but everyone calls me Scamp. That’s my cousin. She’s- _

The dragonet’s demur companion arrived with her snout in the air,  _ I am capable of introducing myself! _ Her eyes fell on Daine and Numair with the same curiosity Scamp had exhibited but tempered by maturity,  _ Ignore Scamp. She is only two centuries old, so she doesn’t have very good manners. _

_ Hey! You only have one more century than me! _

_ Shush!  _ The older one admonished, _ I am Steelsing. Welcome to the Dragonlands. _

“I’m Daine and this is Numair.”

Steelsing bowed her head formally,  _ It is good to meet the guardians of my cousin, Skysong. Follow us, please. Grandsire, Diamondflame, is waiting for you. _

The older dragonet led them over a crystal bridge with formal composure but Scamp earned her nickname by frolicking around Daine and Numair with rapid-fire questions.

_ Moonwind has been teaching me about mortality. I don’t think I would like to be mortal. It sounds uncomfortable, knowing that whatever you do you are going to die one day. How can you be happy like that? _

_ Scamp, you’re being rude, _ said Steelsing.

“That’s quite alright,” Numair explained in his academic way, “Knowing that we will die one day gives mortals a different perspective on daily life. We find ways to make the most of the time we are given and take comfort from the simpler pleasures.”

_ That makes sense, _ said Steelsing, her voice showing hints of shared curiosity despite the way she spoke to Scamp.

_ Uh oh, _ Scamp said suddenly, looking up toward the sky. Steelsing followed her gaze and began to tremble.

“What is it?” Daine asked.

_ It’s Jewelclaw. He’s not very nice,  _ said Scamp, turning the same purplish color Kitten did when she was trying to pretend she wasn’t afraid.

_ He can’t do anything. Grandsire invited them. _

In a gust of wind, a full-size dragon landed a few feet from the group. His amber eyes narrowed on Daine and Numair as his shimmering scales turned molten red edged with black.

“Who allowed these mortals into the Dragonlands?” the great dragon roared, his voice seeming to come from the very air rather than from inside Daine and Numair’s minds. Black magic crackled across his claws threateningly, “I will show you what folly it was to come here!”

Scamp put herself between the giant dragon and the mortals,  _ You can’t touch them! They are under Grandsire’s protection! _

Jewelclaw raised himself onto his hind legs, casting his shadow over the group. “You do not get to say what I can and cannot do! All mortals are filth and I will gladly meet the consequences for ridding our lands of their poison!”

There was another great gust of wind as a dragon that had the same silver-blue wings as Kitten landed behind Jewelclaw. For a moment, Numair was afraid that they had only doubled their trouble when the sky-blue dragon swaggered forward.

“What is going on, Jewelclaw? Are you in such a foul mood that you need to scare mere hatchlings to make yourself feel better?”

_ Hey! _ Scamp started, but Steelsong cuffed her before she could interrupt further. Thankfully, the newly arrived dragon continued as if Scamp had not spoken at all.

“Put your magic away, Jewelclaw. I see no threats worthy of them.”

“Are you blind, Riverscale!” hissed Jewelclaw, “That old newt has invited disgusting mortals into our lands!”

“I would be careful how you speak of my bond-ancestor. He could turn you to dust with a wish. Still, it does seem interesting that Diamondflame would invite mortals here on a whim. Could you enlighten us, mortals?” The way Riverscale spoke, it was like he was asking in jest but his eyes spoke of a secret.

“We are the guardians of the dragonet Skysong, who I assume is his granddaughter,” Numair replied mildly.

Though Riverscale’s voice remained impassive, he smiled in reptilian fashion, “There you have it, Jewelclaw. These mortals have every right to be here if they are raising one of our own.”

“Raising or imprisoning?” sneered Jewelclaw, “That is an important distinction when speaking to mortals.”

Numair crossed his arms casually, coming to a conclusion, “As I’m sure you know, captivity is not a problem for even the youngest of your race. One of the first things Skysong learned to do was obliterate any lock she came across.”

Riverscale’s chuckle rang with melancholy, “Who else would know such a thing but those who have had the rather daunting task of raising Flamewing’s daughter?”

“We will see what the Dragonmeet has to say about it!” promised Jewelclaw as he flapped his great red wings and ascended into a rainbow sky.

Riverscale watched him go with a growled, “I bet his mother was a wyvern, the slime scaled fool.”

_ Uncle Riverscale! That’s rude! _ said Steelsing, offended.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Scamp’s gaze narrowed on the ground,  _ He’s right though. Jewelclaw’s rotten. _

_ SCAMP! _

Riverscale seemed not to hear the dragonets, his gaze falling upon Daine and Numair. There was a glitter to his eyes which might have been tears if dragons were capable of such a thing. “It is nice to meet you, Veralidaine Sarrasri and Master Numair Salmalin. I feel like I know you as old friends despite never having made your acquaintance.”

“How-” Daine started to ask, but Numair stopped the question with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“This is Skysong’s father.”

Daine stiffened, “Father?”

The large dragon nodded slowly, “Flamewing and I were bonded. We were flying over the Gods’ lands when she was pulled into the Mortal Realm. I tried to follow but I was too late. For a long time, I believed that my child was gone as well. When I learned that she was in your care, Diamondflame convinced me to honor Flamewing’s wishes by showing me how much you cared for her.” Riverscale bowed to the two mortals, “Thank you for taking care of my daughter as if she were your own.”

“It is our pleasure,” said Numair with a smile and a respectful bow in return.

“ALL ARE SUMMONED TO THE DRAGONMEET!” said a booming voice from all around them, the same voice that had spoken at the entrance.

“Well, say what you will about Jewelclaw but he works quickly,” said Riverscale before his gaze fell on the dragonets, “Take the mortals to the amphitheater. I will meet you there.”

Steelsing nodded confidently and watched Riverscale fly away before leading the group in a different direction.  _ This way. _

“What is this Dragonmeet?” Numair asked.

Scamp was the one to answer in a grumble,  _ All the elder dragons get together and talk A LOT! It’s boring. _

“Ah, so it is like a dragon-court?”

 _I don’t know what that is._ _The elder dragons talk about the laws and what they mean. The last one lasted twenty years._

“We don’t have that long,” said Daine, sounding a little worried.

“True but we can at least try to convince them,” Numair reassured her, “After all, we did nearly die trying to get here. It would be rather foolish to turn back now.”

“Good point,” Daine admitted but wasn’t very confident in the plan. Then again, conferences and debate were Numair’s area of expertise.

“It will be fine. You’ve handled far more perilous negotiations then this. Carthak only being one example.”

“The Emperor was turned into a stormwing,” she replied with a bored expression.

Numair merely waved a hand as if to say “semantics”.

_ What’s an Emperor? _ asked Scamp.

“The leader of a collection of separate states brought together under a single ruling government.”

_ Oh! But if they are collected under one government, how can they still be considered separate? _

Daine glanced at Numair in a secret joke that he translated easily. If Kitten ended up being anything like Scamp, Numair was not looking forward to the day she learned to mind-speak.

The group emerged at the top of a steep hole, stepped with grassy platforms large enough to seat a full-grown dragon comfortably. The round bottom was decorated with a tiled mosaic of the five essential elements; fire, water, earth, air, and soul. A single set of stairs allowed Daine and Numair to descend into the amphitheater, which Numair found to be a rather strange piece of construction considering how the way they had been welcomed.

Despite trying to maintain an air of confidence, Numair felt the weight of a thousand eyes. Most of the platforms were already filled with dragons of every shade and about half of them pointed expressions of disdain at the two mortals who walked among them.

About half-way down, Steelsing and Scamp stopped and looked around nervously.

_ Grandsire would want us to sit with our family,  _ said Steelsing but she did not sound sure about following her ancestor’s wishes.

_ Forget that! We can’t leave the mortals alone! They’re our friends! _

_ We’ve barely met them. _

_ Why does that matter? _

“You should listen to your granda,” said Daine gently.

_ No, _ said Steelsing, flapping her useless wings with authority,  _ We will remain with you. Scamp is right, good dragons do not abandon their charges. _

Riverscale and another, much larger, dragon met them at the bottom. Unlike the other dragons, the larger one’s eyes were not amber but azure with wings as dark blue as the midnight ocean.

“You two should go be with your parents,” said Diamondflame.

_ You charged us with escorting them, Grandsire. We will not abandon our duty,  _ replied Steelsing.

Riverscale laughed, “You two are very brave. Let them stay, Diamondflame. I think they have earned that right.”

“As you say,” said Diamondflame before offering Daine and Numair a grandfatherly expression, “I am glad to meet my granddaughter’s guardians. I know why you have come and, once this ridiculous meet is over, Riverscale and I would be happy to ferry you to the mortal realms.”

“Thank you, but what exactly can we expect from this meet?” asked Numair.

“Idiocy,” Riverscale replied, his tone dripping with boredom, “Our laws state that no mortal may enter the Dragonlands unless they have the permission of an elder. Since it was Diamondflame that allowed you entrance, this is a waste of everyone’s time. We should just take them back to Skysong and deal with the consequences later.”

“The laws of the Dragonmeet must be followed, Riverscale. Otherwise, we invite the separatists to war. I agree that this meet should have never been called in the first place but now that it has, we must see it through. Let me do the speaking and we should be able to end this before the stars collapse.”

“Fine, Bond-sire, but if my mother speaks, I cannot promise I will remain silent.”

“We ALL hope that she will maintain her distance. No one can blather on like Moonwind.”

“And some wonder why Flamewing and I bonded so young. I was happy to be away from the family squabbles.”

Diamonflame chuckled, “Those who wonder are blind to the obvious. I surely do not blame you for remaining a part of our clan after Flamewing’s death.”

“You were kind to allow it,” said Riverscale, a great deal of respect in his eyes.

“LET THE DRAGONMEET BEGIN!” cried an echoing female voice.

Steelsing shuttered at the sound but remained steadfast as a great dragon with iridescent wings stood on her haunches to address the audience, “Diamondflame has allowed mortals into our lands in direct violation of the one-hundred and second Dragonmeet. For this, I call on the other elders to imprison the mortals and strip of Diamondflame of his elder vote for a century and a day.”

“That is ridiculous mother,” Riverscale shot back, “we all know Diamondflame has the right to invite a mortal into our lands. This is a personal matter, not a reason to call upon the Dragonmeet.”

Moonwind sneered at Riverscale, “Have you already forgotten about Starbloom, your brother, or your bonded, Flamwing? Mortals have taken everything you hold dear, will you just lay on your back and let them have your daughter too? I demand that my granddaughter be returned to our lands!”

“It is not within your rights to demand that. As her father, Riverscale alone will decide whether or not Skysong is allowed to remain with those Flamewing named as guardians. Not even the Dragonmeet can contest that,” said Diamondflame.

“Riverscale is unfit to make that decision. Greif blinds him to the dangers!” yelled Jewelclaw.

“Come down here and say that within reach of my jaws, Jewelclaw!” Riverscale hissed, surging forward and almost squishing Daine and Numair in the process. A wall of midnight blue magic stopped Riverscale in his tracks.

“Fighting solves nothing,” said Diamondflame but that seemed only to ignite a frenzy. All the dragons began speaking over each other, voices rising into a shrill chorus that hurt Numair’s ears.

“Excuse me!” Daine tried to yell above the arguing but her voice was lost in the crowd.

Numair placed his hand on the nape of her neck and quickly cast a spell to amplify her voice. “Try again.”

“EXCUSE ME!” Daine’s voice echoed through the amphitheater, driving the dragons to silence. Numair removed his hand as all eyes turned on Daine and she spoke in an even voice that was only made false by the way her hands trembled, “All we want is to get back to Kit- Skysong. We don’t want to be here any more than you want us here.”

“No one asked you!” Jewelclaw did more than bellow this time, he began down the ramp with hate in his eyes, “Mortals! So arrogant! We should have wiped you out ages ago and done the world a SERVICE! For now, I am more than happy to start with you!”

Numair quickly pushed Daine behind him and let his gift seep into the air. In the mortal realm, it would have drawn on the natural power of the earth. Instead, it drew on the magic that came from the dragons. Every one of them stiffened as Numair pulled upon their power and focused it into a shield around himself, Daine, and the two dragonets that defiantly stood by their sides. Jewelclaw brought his magic-touched claws down on the shield and was shocked when he was thrown backward, sailing clear of the amphitheater and into some unknown distance.

A great laugh echoed through the area, followed by a gravelly voice, “It has been a VERY long time since a mortal mage has been able to do that! I think it was the tenth century. Yes! I remember it just like it was yesterday. That mage, one of the first, he and I battled for hours before we came to a stalemate! It was a wonderful time!”

Emerging from amongst the crowd was a frail-looking dragon who alone remained immune to Numair’s siphon. His milky eyes stared into oblivion but it was clear that the dragon saw far more than the rest. “Master Mage, if you would release our magic, I’m sure we would greatly appreciate it. You have my word that neither you or your companion will be harmed now that you’ve done us the favor of dispatching Jewelclaw.”

Numair nodded and released his grip on the magic. Every dragon let out a sigh of relief.

“Ancestor Rainbow! Surely you see how dangerous this mortal is!” said Moonwind, a tremor to her voice, “You must see him imprisoned before he destroys us all!”

“Moonwind, that mortal could have destroyed you the moment you opened your poisonous mouth. YOU should not have meddled in affairs that have nothing to do with you. Now, begone. Begone all of you! This entire meet is a farce and was not worth interrupting my nap!”

Rainbow flapped his wings and all the dragons disappeared until only he, Diamonflame, Riverscale, and the dragonets remained.

Diamondflame turned his blue eyes on the two little dragons, “You two should go back to your parents. I’m sure they are worried about you.”

_ But Grandsire- _ Scamp whined but before she could finish, she was gone along with Steelsing.

“I like those two but they could use a lesson against arguing with their elders,” said Rainbow pensively before turning his sightless eyes on Daine and Numair, “as for you two. As the eldest in the Dragonlands, I grant you an open invitation here whenever you would like. Who knows, perhaps one day I might relive my youth by challenging the master to a duel.”

“I would be honored, Master Rainbow,” said Numair formally.

“I look forward to it, then. Now, Diamondflame, Riverscale, return Skysong’s mortals her. I think we all know how much trouble the little ones get into when left without guardianship for too long.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” said Daine with a grin, “Thank you, Rainbow.”

“You are most welcome, Weiryn’s daughter,” and with that, the elderly dragon was gone.

Diamondflame offered his open claw to Daine, “I will take you, Veralidaine. You appear to have less bony angles than your companion.”

Daine flashed Numair a grin and climbed onto Diamondflame’s paw. He lifted her and she settled into a seat at the base of his neck.

“That leaves you with me, Master Numair. Not that I’m complaining. I was thrilled to see Jewelclaw taken down a peg.”

Numair looked down awkwardly, “I might have overreacted.”

“You reacted as anyone should. Jewelclaw was not planning to pat you on the head,” said Diamondflame.

“Let’s go! Kit’s waitin’ for us!” Daine yelled down, “Riverscale, you mind helpin’ me out!”

“As you wish,” Riverscale said with a dragon’s smile and lifted Numair onto his back with shimmering blue magic. After Numair was settled in, Diamondflame took wing and Riverscale followed.


	15. Where Stories Are Told

Sitting at Alanna’s feet beside the fire, Kitten reveled in the small amount of peace she had found since Preet had returned with a little creature on her back. George had been ecstatic to learn of the darkings but Alanna was merely relieved that the Copper Island privateers had fled shortly afterward.

Only one thing could disturb the quiet, and that came in the form of a familiar magic dancing through the air. Before Alanna even had the chance to answer the speaking spell, Kitten was on her feet and running toward the window.

“Numair?” Alanna asked through the spell, shock making her voice tremble.

“Yes, please warn the archers that a pair of friendly dragons will be landing within the walls momentarily.”

“Dragons? Goddess bless, Numair where have you been?”

“It is a long story,” he told her with a grin in his voice, “I’ll be sure to tell you all about it.”

“You’d better,” Alanna grumbled and closed her half of the spell.

Kitten whistled and Alanna smiled down at her, “You ready to go tell your parents exactly what we think of their great disappearing act?”

The dragonet trilled her agreement, ruffling her scales to exaggerate just how much of a tongue-lashing her mama and papa were about to receive.

Alanna chuckled, “Good. Let’s go give it to them.”

They met George on the way to the castle gates and Alanna quickly filled him in on the path. Soon the group was met with a fantastic sight. Two adult dragons were standing in the courtyard. The first had deep blue scales and wings so dark they were almost black. He was arguing with the badger god. The other had a slightly lighter color but had wings the same silver-blue as Kitten's. He seemed nervous, scanning the courtyard in search of something.

The dragons were quickly forgotten as Kitten found Daine and Numair among the crowd. She let out a joyful, trilling whistle and galloped across the distance to leap into her papa’s arms. He chuckled and ran his long fingers down Kitten’s spine. The dragonet returned his natural affection by cuddling her nose into the crook of his neck.

A moment later Kitten abandoned Numair to go to Daine but he was not far behind. Together, the three of them collapsed onto the stones. Joyous whistles were mixed with happy tears as Daine and Numair let Kitten admonish them and then apologized whole-heartedly for making her think they were dead. She forgave them of course. In the end, all that mattered was that she had them back.

After they had finished their reunion, Numair got to his feet to greet Alanna and George who had kept back from the touching scene.

As soon as Numair got within range of Alanna, she punched him. Not hard enough to break bone but his jaw was likely going to hurt for a few days.

Numair recovered, holding his jaw, “Damnit Alanna! What was that for!”

“THAT is for making me think you were dead!” she yelled at him.

Then, just as she might have hit him again, Alanna grabbed Numair up in a crushing hug. He returned it with a chuckle. After a long moment, she pulled back slightly to pierce him with the full intensity of her gaze, “You ever do that to me again and there won’t be enough of you left for the Black God to find!”

“I wouldn’t test her on it neither. Dough it’s good ta see ya whole for now,” George grinned at Daine and rustled her curls, “and dat you’ve brought our little wildlin’ back wit ya.”

“She wouldn’t let me return without her,” Numair replied with a knowing glance at Daine, earning him a glare from Alanna. Kitten barely had time to jump back in her papa’s arms before Alanna grabbed Daine up in the same crushing hug she had given Numair.

Pulling back, Alanna winked, “Good on her. If you would’ve left her behind, I would have had you gelded.”

“Charming, Alanna,” Numair drawled, “If you are done with the threats there’s a-.”

Heavy footsteps cut through the mage’s words, reminding Kitten of the two dragons who waited patiently for the greetings to conclude. Daine and Numair shared a glance, speaking in their silent way before Numair handed Kitten back to her mama who cuddled the dragonet close as she turned toward the dragons.

“Kit, this here’s you’re granda, Diamondflame.”

Kitten was a little shocked but she wouldn’t anger her parents so quickly after getting them back by forgetting her manners. Bowing her head, she greeted the massive dragon, _It is nice to meet you._

Diamondflame bowed his head in return, _It is lovely to meet you, Skysong. You must forgive us for not visiting sooner. Trips to the mortal realm are greatly restricted._

The dragonet shrugged and said, _That’s alright. Mama and Papa have been taking very good care of me. My mother was right to trust them._

_I’m delighted to hear that little one, though part of me does wish that you would have never needed their guardianship. I do miss my daughter terribly._

Kitten’s head drooped as she told him, _I wish I could have met her._

The other dragon had remained somewhat distant during the exchange but at Kitten’s words, he stepped forward like it was a compulsion. _She would be happy to know you have found happiness._

When Kitten cocked her head in confusion, Daine quietly told her, “This is your da, Riverscale.”

She froze, staring up at the dragon who bowed his head a little too formally for Kitten to connect her mama’s words with her mind’s idea of what a father should be, _I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for some time, daughter._

Looking for familiarity, Kitten swiveled around to find Numair. He understood the conflict in the dragonet’s eyes immediately and smiled encouragingly. Still, she was scared. Kitten jumped from Daine’s arms and hid behind his legs. Kitten didn’t want a new papa, not when she had just gotten Numair back.

Slowly, Numair kneeled to capture her gaze. His expression was gentle and he spoke in a quiet but instructive voice, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to but he has wanted to meet you for a long time. I think you should give him a chance.”

Kitten let out a soft coo, a question Numair understood immediately, “Your mother and I will be right here to support you, whatever you decide.”

That was all she needed, to know that he would still be her papa even though her birth father stood before her. Only then could she approach Riverscale shyly.

Riverscale nudged her with his snout in an unfamiliar sign of affection but Kitten slowly warmed to him, eventually returning the gesture. It was an awkward moment but they ultimately came to an understanding. He was her father, and one day Kitten might love him, but it would take time.

 _Did you and my mother love each other?_ she asked, unable to stop herself. It was just something Kitten had always wanted to know.

Riverscale answered back with a chuckle, _Very much. She was intelligent and beautiful, but she could be incredibly fierce in fighting for what she believed in. If you’d like, I could tell you about her. Maybe then, you’ll feel like you knew her._

 _I think we should save such things for another time,_ said Kitten's grandfather, _before he returned to corralling the Sorrows, the Badger convinced us of the danger Uusoae poses. Riverscale and I will fight with you and your mortals so that the Queen of Chaos does not escape her confines._

 _And so my daughter does not lose the mortals she cares for_ , agreed Riverscale.

“Then make yourselves at home,” said Alanna, bowing her head to the dragons before whirling on her heel to head back toward the castle. Over her shoulder, she waved Daine and Numair forward, “Meanwhile, you two have a lot of explaining to do.”

***

To say Daine and Numair received some rather strange looks as they walked through the castle halls would have been a grand understatement. Some made the sign against evil, but most lit with hope.

Jeremi whispered to one of the maids as they passed, “With Miss Daine and Master Numair back, we’ll win this thing. You’ll see.”

After hearing that, the aforementioned mages only had to share a glance to feel the full weight of their absence. They had always known that their combined power was a boon to the kingdom but they had never expected to become beacons of hope. It gave them a new perspective on their place in the country they had adopted, made it honestly feel like the place they belonged.

Alanna pushed open the lord’s study and strode inside, “Jon, you won’t believe what I found in the courtyard.”

The king turned away from the window to grin at Daine and Numair in the same moment Preet abandoned her perch on the windowsill to land on Numair’s shoulder.

“Hello, pretty bird,” he greeted before bowing his head toward the king, “Your majesty.”

“It’s about time you two showed up,” Jonathan said, crossing the distance in a few strides to clap Numair and Daine on their shoulders, “We’ve been worried about you.”

“Sorry it took so long, your majesty,” said Daine with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yes, I believe time moves differently in the Divine Realms,” said Numair, “It took less than a week to make the journey to the Dragonlands but, from what I could tell, it has been weeks here.”

“It’s been over a month since you two left for Greenhall,” Alanna said as she fell into one of the overstuffed chairs beside the hearth and waved to encompass the matching sofa, “And I’m anxious to know what you’ve been up to.”

Daine and Numair took a seat on the sofa, remaining so close together that they only took up half the available space. Still, George and Jonathan maintained a certain distance, with the former leaning languidly against the mantle while the latter took up the other chair.

After a deep breath, Numair and Daine took turns telling their story. When it was finished, their audience was gaping at them in disbelief.

Jonathan was the first to recover, rubbing his temples as if he had a headache, “So, you’re saying Ozorne is working for the Queen of Chaos and if we don’t stop him and his allies, the world will end.”

“Yes,” replied Numair, reaching up to gently stroke Preet’s back. The sunbird had hardly left him since his appearance in the room, shifting between his shoulder and the back of the sofa throughout the story. “Though I understand if it is a lot to take in. I’m not sure I would believe it if I were in your place.”

“It’s not dat we don’t believe ya, we jus’ didn’t have a whole walk through de Gods’ Realms ta let it sink in,” George joked, moving away from the mantle to brace his hands against the desk where dozens of maps tracked both ally and enemy movements. Jelly, slithered up his arm to rest on his shoulder and whisper in his ear. Already George’s mind was working through various strategies, imagining a thousand different ways things could play out, but only he could do so with a smirk on his face. “De enemy’s been slowly surroundin’ Port Legann. I couldn’t make sense of it ‘til now. Dey’re gatherin’ for a final battle.”

Alanna fiddled with the jewel at her throat. Its slow pulsing glow proved George right. The danger would be upon them sooner then they would like. “The question from there is, how do we fight it?”

Jonathan moved to stand opposite George, “I think it’s fairly obvious. Now that we know who among our enemies poses the greatest danger, we must go on the offensive.” The king quickly started moving pieces across the map, speaking with the authority he had been born with, “Thayet can take the Fifth, Ninth, and Second Rider Groups to meet the Scanrans where they’re camped in the hills to the west. Inar Hadensra is with them.”

Numair, tugging at his nose absently, purposely ignored Daine’s narrowed eyes as he spoke academically, effectively hiding the growing ache in his chest, “I will join them. Hadensra won’t be easy to take down but I have the best chance against him.”

Nodding solemnly, George continued the king’s train of thought before anyone could think to protest, “De Copper Islanders are still playin’ games in de bay. I tink our giant flyin’ friends out dere can help wit dem. As for Ozorne’s main forces, dere entrenched just outside the south wall. De’ll be de biggest problem.”

Her expression one of complete concentration, Daine spoke in a languid cadence, “I can hear a lot of the immortals from here. Most of ‘em think Ozorne don’t got their best interests in mind. If we hit ‘em hard enough, they’ll abandon him.”

Alanna looked toward Jonathan with narrowed eyes that warned him of the futility of arguing, “We don’t have the manpower for that but, if you and Daine could set them off-balance with some good old-fashion scare-tactics, me and the Own could hit them hard enough to make them wish they’d stayed in the Divine Realms.”

Jonathan sighed, “I hate using the Dominion Jewel but I suppose we don’t have much of a choice with the fate of the world in the balance.”

“You bet your breaches,” Alanna said with a decisive nod.  

Glancing worriedly toward Daine, Numair finally confessed the concerns that had plagued him since his conversation with Rikash, “Seeing as Ozorne is the one most directly connected to Uusoae, we must limit his influence. We need to draw him out before the ambush and the only person who might succeed in such an endeavor would be me.”

“You’re talking about using yourself as bait,” said Alanna, obviously disapproving, “That’s insane, Numair.”

Daine raised her chin in defiance, “You’ve been planning this since the Sea of Sand.”

Numair’s shoulders fell, “I can neither confirm nor deny your assertion.”

“That’s a ‘yes’ if I’ve ever heard one,” said Daine, pinning Numair with a glare.

Of all those in the room, it was George that took up Numair’s banner, “He’s gotta point, wildlin’. We all know how much Ozorne hates ‘im. But-” holding up a hand when Daine made to argue, he smiled, “I’ve got an idea dat’ll keep ‘im from riskin’ his neck. Well, not more den needed anyways.”

“And what’s that?” asked Jonathan.

“We setta trap. Numair, how quick can ya make one of dose sima-things? Like de one ya used in Carthak?”

“Really George? Simulacrum is not that difficult of a word to say.”

“How long?” Alanna asked with a huff.

Surprisingly, Daine was the one to answer, “One that can fool Ozorne? Two days. What?” Daine frowned at Numair’s blatant gaping, “You really think I don’t pay attention to anything you say, don’t you?”

The chuckle that bubbled in his chest was only partially due to his lingering astonishment, “Apparently I misread the blank expression you exhibited when I spoke of such things.”

Daine rolled her eyes, “Just cause I’m bored don’t mean I’m not payin’ attention.”

“Right,” Numair replied with a shake of his head but he ultimately agreed with Diane’s assessment, “Two days should be enough time but I’ll need to know exactly what you plan to do with it.”

“I plan ta offer ya up in surrender,” George said with a smirk that could only be described as devious, “Knowin’ Ozorne, he won’t be able ta resist gloatin’.”

“A trap in the guise of betrayal, I like it,” said Alanna, slapping her thighs as she stood, “We’ve got two days. I say enjoy them while we’ve got the chance.”


	16. Where Traps Are Laid

Numair stood before the featureless mass of black and copper magic with a sapphire in his hand, unable to make himself enact the spell. He hated creating such a realistic manifestation of himself and after watching his simulacrum burn in Carthak, he hesitated to complete his task.

In fact, he was so completely trapped in his memories that he hadn’t known Daine was standing behind him until she placed a comforting hand on his arm. He physically jumped but desperately tried to cover up his discomfort behind a joke. “Goodness Daine! Have you been spending so much time spying on the enemy you’ve stopped making noise altogether?”

“I’m fair sure I could have clomped through the room on horse-hooves and you wouldn’t’ve heard me,” she let out a long sigh. “You know, George isn’t gonna need that thing ‘til tonight. It’d be alright if you took a break.”

Numair took in a calming breath and slipped the sapphire into his pocket, “Perhaps you’re right, though I doubt time will make things any easier.”

“Prolly not, but you look about half-fallin’ down.”

He turned narrowed eyes on her, “As if you have room to criticize. You’re so low on magic I can barely feel it.”

“Then we’d both best take a break,” she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the bed they had barely shared over the previous two days.  

The exhaustion of their days in the Divine Realms compounded with the nervous energy of anticipation to settle on them like a weight. They fell heavily into the bed with their day clothes still on but, for a long time, they just laid there enjoying the few moments of peace they had.

“You know, I’ve been wonderin’ how you found me after the spidren got me,” said Daine quietly, stretching the stillness without shattering it all together.

“It was a simple magic-”

“Mouse manure,” she said, but the laugh in her voice took the venom out of the interruption, “You think I’ve spent all this time around you without knowing how much magic it takes to find someone AND go to ‘em?”

“Good point. Alright, the truth is your father gave me this.” Numair lifted his wrist to show her the locket. It opened on its own, revealing the tiny painting of her as well as the jewel-like piece of solidified magic, “It works similar to a focus but easily ten-times more powerful.”

She reached out and brushed the edges of the locket, “So you could use it to draw on my magic?”

“It’s more than that. It connects us even between realms. In theory, I might even be able to use it to send you my magic.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“You know, I don’t know. I think I forgot about it until I needed it.” Unconsciously, Numair’s eyes trailed down her body, and Diane shivered in response to the heat in his gaze. “Afterward my mind was on...other things.”

Daine lifted herself onto her elbow so that she could look down at him. The shifting of the mattress elicited a squeak from Kitten who leaped off the bed to curl up on the window seat instead. They watched her go, only continuing their conversation once the dragonet was breathing evenly again. Snaking his hand up to the nape of her neck, Numair pulled her down for a kiss that quickly turned into a lot more.

In the afterglow, Numair lifted his head from Daine’s chest and looked down at her, “Have I managed to convince you to marry me yet?”

“Nope,” she replied with a chuckle he could feel vibrate against his chest, “Come now, Numair, do you think we could be more married then we already are?” She gestured toward the bronze magic that danced around them as evidence.

He rolled his eyes, “If magical entanglement were a replacement for matrimony, there would be more than a few mages with a lot to explain to their significant others. Not that it renders your point completely invalid. Becoming so bound that the magics involved change color is exceedingly rare.”

Daine’s voice grew soft as she brushed the lock of silver hair behind his ear, “I just don’t want to invite the gods where they don’t belong. I think they’ve had enough say.”

“But that is exactly my point. It’s high time the gods understood that we belong to each other and no one else.”

The evening bell ended the discussion, and they looked toward the window to find the purpling sky taunting them through the glass.

“It seems our moment of peace has come to an end,” said Numair, even as the thought of having to finish the simulacrum made his chest ache.

Daine made no move to get up. Instead, she murmured, “I’m sorry, Numair, but I don’t think I can watch. Not after...”

He waved away her worries with an idle hand, “I understand.”

Daine absently fingered the chain at his wrist, “Just- come back to me. Alright?.”

“Not even the Black God could keep me away.” Though Numair’s words were spoken comically, they were layered with meaning. A warning dancing below a declaration of love.

“Good.” Daine touched her forehead to his, capturing Numair’s lips in a swift kiss before pulling away and rolling off of the bed, “We should get goin’. ‘Fore Alanna drags us outta bed by our ears.”

Once Daine was gone, Numair reluctantly heaved himself from the bed. Pulling his clothes back on, he seized the sapphire in his pocket. The all-too-familiar spell ripped from his throat, giving form and function to the magic and creating an exact copy of his likeness.

It took a long time for Numair to find his breath, sweat beading on his brow as memories fluttered through his mind like crows.

“Are you ready to face your fears?” he asked his image. It didn’t answer, staring at him blankly. “Neither am I. Come.”

  
  
Numair’s face felt stiff, and his soul was heavy. Forcing his bound simulacrum toward the enemy camp while under the effect of both an invisibility charm, and the dampening spell specifically made to tame his magic, was like marching toward the gallows.

The recent past and the present collided painfully, his only solace the knowledge that his best friend was by his side. If he could trust anyone, it was Alanna. She had balked at his insistence that she use the dampening spell on him and the simulacrum, but it was necessary to the charade. Ozorne had to believe Numair was powerless, defenseless, and betrayed in the worst way imaginable. If even one thing seemed off, the plan would fail.

An apeian stood guard at the edge of the immortal camp, his red eyes narrowed on the group that approached under cover of darkness hoisting a white flag.

 _Who goes there?_ the beast asked from within their minds.

George roughly pushed the simulacrum forward, “Baron George of Pirate’s Swoop and Lady Alanna of Olau. We came ta speak ta Ozorne. Ta make a deal.”

The apeian sneered at the simulacrum, baring his pointed silver teeth, _Why would he wish to make a deal with you?_

“Ya know who dis is, ya know wot we’re offerin’ his majesty.”

A long moment passed as the apeian’s gaze went distant, then he nodded, _I will take you to the stormwing king._

They followed the flying ape toward the back of the camp, passing immortals of every kind. Within a grove of spruce trees, hundreds of stormwings watched the humans from their perches. Killer unicorns pranced about, their fangs peeking from beneath horse lips while hurroks and wyverns wheeled overhead. It was frightening to see the immortals interacting like comrades, mingling in the shared goal of unleashing chaos onto the world. From his perspective, Numair found it hard to believe in Daine’s assertion that the majority of the immortals would betray Ozorne given a choice.

Near the back of the complex, Ozorne had returned to his imperious form. He no longer adorned himself in gold, but no form change could take away what he was beneath the metallic feathers and grime.

He smiled as the group approached, his gaze fixed on the simulacrum.

Gripping the sapphire in his palm, Numair made his image struggle against its confines and point pleading looks at Alanna. It was a rather cruel thing to do, judging by the guilt Alanna pointed at her feet but, if Numair had learned anything from his time as a player, it was that one false move could ruin the trick.

“You appear to have brought me quite the amazing gift, but I assume it comes with a price?”

“Yes,” Alanna said, stepping forward to take point and grimacing with all the skill of a master mummer, “We want you to end your assault on Legann.”

“I have to wonder,” Ozorne said, flipping his thin braids back in a gesture of carelessness, “What kind of desperate situation could cause you to turn on a man you considered a friend?”

George was the one to answer, his tone cold, “We’re done fightin’ a battle we can’t win. What’s one man ‘gainst hundreds?”

“And Veralidaine? Surely she wouldn’t agree to let you hand over her beloved master,” Ozorne asked knowingly, expecting to have caught them in their lie, “What assurance do I have that she won’t try to free him?”

Fortunately, Alanna was more clever than most gave her credit for. Turning a glare on Ozorne, she sneered, “She’s dead. I should run you through for sending those spidren after her, you heartless son of a whore.”

Numair quickly manipulated the simulacrum, weighing down its shoulders with the devastation and anger he had felt upon discovering Daine trapped within the spidrens’ webs. The resulting light in Ozorne’s eyes fueled Numair further as he commanded the simulacrum to lash out. George arrested it before it could get far, struggling with it as it tried to strike out at the stormwing. “I’m going to kill you for what you did, you bastard!”

Ozorne merely laughed, “I should have known when I learned the spidren were dead. I wish I could have seen it. Nothing tastes as sweet as rage bourne of heartbreak.”

Alanna joined George in the battle against Numair's genuine rage, putting herself between the simulacrum and Ozorne. With a sad expression, she whispered a sleeping spell. On its own, it would not have stopped an image made of magic, but Numair made it fall into a semblance of unconsciousness.

Once the task was done, Alanna turned on Ozorne. Her anger was a mirror of Numair’s, setting her amethyst eyes aflame. “Do we have a deal or not?"

Ozorne nodded, “We do. Come morning, we will be gone and my old friend here will finally meet his fate. I have to admit, I will relish sending him to live with his guilt in Oblivion.”

“Sorry, mate,” said George, fixing his mischievous gaze on the stormwing, “but I don’t trust ya ta keep ya word once we’ve handed him over. We’ll meet ya outside de walls at sunrise. Once we know all de immortals ‘r gone, we’ll give ‘im ta ya.”

“How do I know you will keep your word?”

George sarcastically feigned nonchalance, “We’re de ones dat won’t be seein’ our children ‘gain if dis deal falls through. Take dat as ya want.”

Rolling his eyes, Ozorne waved a wingtip in their direction. The movement might have seemed like a dismissal, but Numair saw it for a distraction. Beneath the cool mask of the disgraced Emperor, the boy who had lost his father still lingered like an old wound. “We have a deal. Now leave, before I change my mind and have you all killed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, the last part of the story got deleted from my document while I was posting it so I have to rewrite it. I'll have it up soon, I PROMISE!


	17. Where The Trick Ends

Numair didn’t sleep all night, never returning to the room he shared with Daine or even to the castle. Instead, he stood on the walls and watched the immortal’s camp slowly shrink into the sunrise. Ozorne wasn’t keeping his word, Numair knew that for a fact, Ozorne was sending the immortals away only long enough to get what he wanted. Daine had all but confirmed it before letting out a long sigh and going down to the stables.

When the sun had finally risen completely, he sent his bound simulacrum out into the blood-soaked fields just outside the fortress. A small unit of apeians and stormwings emerged, crossing the distance to arrest the magical copy.

Ozorne appeared from among their ranks to press his gleeful visage into the image of Numair’s fallen face. It was easy to imagine what he was saying, crowing his victory over the man he had chosen as a nemesis.

The mage lifted his outstretched palm and slowly closed his fingers. A net made of golden light exploded from the simulacrum, destroying its body and trapping the group of immortals. Ozorne roared and struggled while the apeians desperately tried to claw their way out of their confines.

His task complete, Numair turned away from the scene at the same moment the gates opened. Alanna and a group of soldier-mages would see that Ozorne and his compatriots were imprisoned, Numair’s work was done. At least for the moment.

Spending a few moments winding through the wall’s stone walkways, Numair eventually found himself leaning against a guard tower and watching Kitten as she showed her birth father how she had learned to manipulate stones through whistles. It was nice to see them bonding, to know that Kitten would have someone to watch over her in the centuries after Numair and Daine had gone to the Black God’s Realm.

There was no telling how long the mage had stood there, watching the familial scene, before he felt something cold grip his heart. Throughout the city, animals of every kind froze and turned their gazes toward the castle. There could only be one cause.

Numair didn’t hesitate, blindly sprinting through the city and following the halls toward the dungeons. What he found there made his heart race even as his blood turned to ice.

A dampening spell glittered across the bars that stood between Daine and Ozorne but, while it protected Daine from the wrath in Ozorne’s gaze, it would do little to protect the stormwing from the arrow she pointed at him. To his credit, Ozorne did not shrink in fear. He remained steadfast, staring directly back at Daine as if inviting her to kill him.

Sensing Numair’s presence, Daine spoke to him without ever turning her determined gaze from Ozorne, “Go away.”

“You know I won’t do that,” he told her, struggling to keep his voice calm as her chilly exterior made him shiver, “I won’t just let you kill him.”

“Why not? As long as he’s alive, we can’t live in peace.”

Numair ventured a step forward but stopped when Daine renewed her grip on her bow. Sighing he told her, “Daine, this isn’t who you are.”

Ozorne rolled his eyes, “She’s the daughter of a hunt-god. Killing is in her blood.”

“Shut up,” Numair hissed at his old enemy before turning his attention back to Daine, “Hunters aren’t murderers. They are survivors. There is a very distinct difference.”

Daine’s draw relaxed fractionally, but it was enough to give Numair the confidence to approach. Slowly, he moved, approaching his wild magelet with all the false calm one might use to approach a sleeping lion, “Listen to me. Killing him won’t solve anything. He is a prisoner. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

She took a breath and, for a moment, Numair believed he had succeeded in talking her down, then she loosed her arrow directly into Ozorne’s heart. Numair gaped as Ozorne staggered backward and fell against the far wall.

Daine whirled away from the scene, capturing Numair’s gaping expression in her painful gaze. “I’m sorry, Numair.”

“Why?” was all he could say, the word tearing from his throat as his mind became overwhelmed with disbelief.

“So we don’t have to live in his cage anymore,” she said sadly, “now we can both be free of him.”

He knew what cage she spoke of, the cage of fear. Though he had known the sway her memories of imprisonment had over her, he had never realized just how much Ozorne’s continued existence haunted her. How afraid of him she was.

Before Numair could make sense of it all, the walls began to shake and Ozorne rose to waddle forth as if he had never been injured.

“Oh, you aren’t free of me yet, Veralidaine. You think I was foolish enough to fall for such an obvious trick?”

The walls began to shake and the blood dripping from Ozorne’s wound began to trickle swirling jewel tones onto the dungeon floor. The imprisoned Ozorne smiled and pinned Numair with a look that spoke of ultimate victory. “I was always far better at maintaining the illusion.”

The image of Ozorne melted into a pool of chaos magic that seeped into the floor only to rise again at Numair’s feet, enveloping him in darkness.


	18. Where Wars Are Won and Lost

Numair knew the sensation of being pulled across the realms as it was not something he was likely to forget any time soon. That was why he far from surprised to find himself standing on the shores of Temptation Lake, looking out at the still waters as they reflected the afternoon sun like a mirror.

It took far too long for his faculties to return, the journey between realms causing him to feel disoriented, but when they did he noticed the swirling film across the water’s surface. It was like a layer of oil, turning the once beautiful scene into another battleground.

“Funny how dat works, eh?” said a deeply accented voice from Numair’s right, “How de world ain’t always what it seems at first glance.”

“I think you would know that better than anyone,” Numair replied, glancing over at the evil mage. Inar Hadensra could have been handsome, his chiseled jaw and shining blonde hair the type of thing songs were sung about, but the ruby that had replaced one of his eyes ruined the effect. “How long did it take you to understand you were standing on the wrong side?”

“Too long but at some point, ya jus’ can’t turn back anymore. Once Uusoae’s gotter claws in ya, dere ain’t no breakin’ from ‘er.”

There was a long silence as Numair lamented the truth. Even in death, there was no way for Inar to escape the path he had chosen.

“Despite this revelation, I doubt you will do the honorable thing and just let me go,” Numair finally asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“‘Fraid not.”

Numair let out a long sigh, “Then will you allow me a moment to at least make sure this is not all in vain?”

Inar bowed his head and gestured toward the lake.

Stepping forward until his boots were toeing the edge of the water, Numair peered down at the reflective surface and focused his thoughts past the cascade of emotions inside him.

An image appeared in the water, the scenery of Port Legann turned into a pure manifestation of chaos. Across a battlefield, immortals of every kind warred against the men of women of Tortall. In the bay, the dragons dodged liquid fire and burned ships. Kitten was with her father, riding on his back and sending out sharp whistles that encased the sludge-like balls of green fire in stone.

Then the image changed, focusing on a raptor as it sped through the trees. Numair knew from the unnatural ash-brown shade of the bird’s feathers that it was Daine. She was hot on Ozorne’s tail, but there was blood dripping from one of her wings that caused her flight to falter.

“She means nothing to you if I’m here,” Numair told the water as if Ozorne would answer.

Instead, it was Inar that provided him with an explanation, “Ozorne might’ve wanted to use her ta make ya suffer, but Uusoae had other plans. Ya know, divine blood’s de only ting dat’ll break the barriers between realms. Since using a god’s blood is ‘gainst de rules, half-god’ll do. If yer girl dere don’t start thinkin’ straight, Ozorne’s gonna lead ‘er right inta Uusoae’s trap. Lucky fur ya, I ain’t ready ta see dat jus’ yet.”

Red and gold magic, belonging to Inar, passed across the image and descended into the depths of the water. A moment later, the tendril of power wrapped around Ozorne like a rope and the stormwing was sent careening into a tree.

Ozorne recovered shortly after falling into the underbrush, getting up onto his taloned feet and tearing at the crimson magic with steel feathers. It fell away but Ozorne’s left wing remained at an odd angle. It would be much harder for him to fly away.

Daine shifted as she landed, becoming a hyena that snarled only a few feet from Ozorne. The hatred and pain in her feral gaze was nearly heartbreaking.

“Can’t do much fur yer girl dough. Uusoae won’t lemme. You could dough, if ya had a way ta send her yer magic.”

“Well, then I suppose it is a good thing I have this,” said Numair, lifting his wrist to reveal the locket Weiryn had given him.

Inar chuckled, “Should’ve known ya’d have sumpthin’ up yer sleeve.”

Numair smirked in reply, “Once a player, always a player.”

Unhooking the locket, Numair tossed it into the water. There was no guarantee that it would work, but he had faith. It fell into the depths, passing through the image in the water to land just in front of Daine. Her gaze followed it and once she saw it, he could have sworn she smiled.

Daine took a single step forward, placing her paw over the locket’s face. Numair felt his gift pull away from him, drifting toward her wild magic and twining with it until they were sharing power across a distance more significant than any other.

The wild magic stoked into a blaze that was blinding in its brilliance and Daine rushed toward Ozorne with open jaws that promised death.

Numair turned away from the image, knowing what would happen next and making peace with the fact that Ozorne would be dead soon. Daine would not be his executioner; she would be his hunter- fighting under the rules of survival rather than driven by revenge or fear. It was all he had wanted in the end, to know that when she gave into her wild nature that she would not become tainted by the power.

Inar smiled knowingly, “Ya ready, Black Mage?”

“As ready as I can be,” Numair replied sadly, not looking forward to the battle the same way Inar was.

“Den may de best man win.”

There was barely a heartbeat before the duel began, crimson and shadow meeting in a storm of destruction. Trees were burned away, the ground was shattered, and the water of the lake turned to steam.

Numair knew the moment he would die, the skin of his outstretched arms going dry and ashen as his body's ability to contain the power coursing through it faltered. Inar was not much better off, his skin sloughing away like peeling paint.

Then Numair felt something warm crawl across his skin. The copper stars dotted throughout his shadowy gift began to bleed, banishing the darkness and becoming a stream of bronze that flowed from his hands. It pushed back Inar’s crimson magic until it was obliterated and the ruby-eyed mage was thrown backward.

Landing heavily on the blackened ground, Inar smiled as he stared up at the cloud-laden sky. The wind picked up as he slowly turned to dust. In the end, all that was left of him was his ruby which winked in the flashes of red lightning that cut across the world.

As he was carried away into oblivion, Numair could hear Inar chuckle and say, “Thank you, Black Mage.”

That was when Numair finally understood the series of events that had found him standing in the Divine Realm a second time. Inar wanted the fight of his life but, knowing he might not win, he had chosen his battlefield with care. He might be caught in Oblivion, but his power no longer belonged to the Queen of Chaos. In death, he was freed.

Stumbling forward on watery legs, Numair took the large gem into his palm and smiled into the fractals, “No, my friend, thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it is taking me so long to get these last chapters rewritten. Life gets in the way...especially when I'm already frustrated by the fact that I have to rewrite them in the first place. Damn computer glitches.


	19. Where Choices Are Made

Numair felt himself fall but instead of hitting the ground as he thought he would, he landed on a softness that barely qualified as solid.

“Well, you did it. I knew you would, my clever boy.”

He would know the Graveyard Hag’s voice anywhere considering his long history with the goddess, but the world was mostly made up of watery shapes until the moment that a warm hand slid against his cheek.

Slowly the pain in his limbs subsided and he could blink away the haze to reveal the weathered face and gap-toothed grin.

“Where am I?” he managed to ask past his dry throat.

“Still in the Divine Realm. There was something I thought you’d want to see before I sent you back where you belong.”

The Graveyard Hag left his sight to be replaced with a large mirror that floated above him as if held up by invisible hands. The glass wavered and an image appeared across the surface.

At first, it filled him with a sense of relief when he saw that Daine was standing before a large marble dais. Then he only felt cold when the image zoomed out to reveal two figures sitting on massive and ornate thrones. On the golden seat cast to look like a sun setting over an emerald green cushion, sat Mithros. The god looked like masculine power incarnate, his muscled body rippling as he scanned the scene before him. Next to him, on a silver throne inlaid with jade trees, was the Great Mother Goddess whose softer features bathed the room in gentle light.

Daine was surrounded on either side by her mother and father, each of them cowed by the presence of the divine rulers. Their expressions were torn in some sort of internal struggle that was only kept silent by the power that surrounded them.

“I believe the only solution now would be to limit her influence,” said Mithros, his voice booming like a battle call.

“Forgive me, my lord,” said Sarra, her voice sweet and gentle as ever, “but isn’t there a way to do that without robbing her of her choice? After all, she stopped Uusoae from escapin’ didn’t she?”

Mithros wrapped his large hand around his chin, casting his contemplative gaze on Daine. To her credit, she never wavered before the god, standing firm in the extravagant gown that didn’t suit her at all. Numair’s magelet looked stunning in just about anything but the dress was everything she hated. Breeches, boots, and wayward straw- that was who Daine was, not a princess-doll draped in silver.

Mithros’ hand dropped to rest on the arm of his throne as he came to a decision, “Then as your reward for ensuring we did not fall to chaos, you will be given a choice between two lives. Either you can join your parents in the Divine Realms, a goddess in your own right, or you can return to the Mortal Realm. Mind you, if you chose to return to the Mortal Realm, you will never be allowed entrance to the Divine Realm again, even after death. If you choose to become a goddess, you would be able to visit the mortal realm in order to fulfill your divine duties.”

Gapping, Daine looked from her father and then to her mother but Sarra only smiled, “We cannot sway you either way. The choice has to be yours.”

Daine’s jaw closed slowly and tears balanced on the edges of her eyes as she nodded at her mother. Then, after visibly swallowing, she turned back to Mithros.

“Well, that just won’t do!” The Graveyard Hag bellowed and Numair was ripped backward.

He was left reeling as he found himself on his feet in the very room he had been watching through a mirror only moments before. His knees buckled as vertigo consumed him but something caught him on the edge of a breathy whisper.

“Numair.”

The strong hands that held him were warm and made his skin tingle pleasantly, meaning they could only belong to one person.

“Daine.”

“This is ridiculous!” The Graveyard Hag yelled and both Daine and Numair’s attention was drawn to the dais where they found the Graveyard Hag standing mere inches from Mithros, practically screaming directly into his face, “You ask that girl to make a decision but you don’t give her all the details!”

“You dare!” Mithros growled, rising from his chair to dwarf the elderly goddess but the Hag stood her ground.

Waving a hand at the great god’s bluster, she rolled her eyes, “Oh, stop your preening, you great oaf. You’re the one who stepped into my domain when you tried to trick the poor girl. If you don’t want company, don’t send the invitation.”

Mithros looked as if he were about to reply before the Graveyard Hag spun away from him toward the two mortals in the open-air throne room. Pointing a gnarled finger at Daine, she said, “Don’t you say a damn thing until-” Her finger swerved toward Numair, “you’ve asked all the right questions.”

Then, just like that, she was gone.

All eyes fell on Mithros as his rage-fueled power darkened the room but before he could lay down any more commands, the Great Mother Goddess spoke in a voice that sounded like a gentle breeze. “Weiryn’s Daughter, will you allow this mortal man to speak for you?”

All eyes fell on Daine but she barely seemed to notice as she smirked at Numair, “Well, you’re better at this stuff than I am. If anyone’d know what questions to ask, it’d be you.”

“You have to say the words,” said Weiryn and Numair swore he must have been dreaming because the god almost looked pleased by the turn of events.

“Fine, then, yes, I’ll let Numair speak for me.”

The Goddess bowed her head in acknowledgment, “Then, if you accept, Master Numair, you may ask whatever questions you wish as they pertain to the current situation.”

Numair caught Daine’s gaze in a silent question which she responded to with a smile. Filled with the warmth of Daine’s trust, Numair stood straighter so that he could address the room with a confidence he did not feel. “If Daine were to chose the Divine realm would she be allowed to visit the Mortal Realm as she wishes?”

Mithros fell back into his throne with a grimace, “No. She would be confined here for eternity, only able to visit the Mortal Realm to fulfill her divine duties.”

“What divine duties?”

“As a wielder of wild magic, she would be given domain over others born with the ability.”

“So, considering the rarity of wieldable wild magic, she would not be able to visit the Mortal Realm often, correct?”

Mithros’ jaw hardened and he answered as if the single word was pulled from his lips unwillingly, “Yes.”

“But she would be granted all the powers and immortality of a goddess, therefore able to speak to and hear any who prayed to her?”

“Yes.”

Looking toward Daine, Numair fixed her with an expression that refused to give away his own opinion on the subject, “I think that is all the information you need to make a decision. Just make sure you say exactly what YOU want. Don't leave any room for negotiation.”

She squeezed his hand, “Thank you, Numair.”

Bowing his head in acceptance of her gratitude, he let go of her hand and stepped back. In his wake, Daine was left looking at Sarra once more.

A sad smile painted its way across Daine's lips, “A lot of time was stolen from us.”

Sarra returned the expression, “Too much time. We won't ever get it back. All we can do is look to the future.”

Squaring her shoulder, Daine thrust her pointed chin into the air as she addressed Mithros once more, “I want to go home with Numair. Back to Tortall.”

It took a long time for Numair to process her words when, moments before, he had been so sure she would choose to stay in the Divine Realm with her mother.

“Daine- your mother- are you-” he tried to say more, but the words caught in his throat.

Luckily, Daine was ready with a response. Smirking over her shoulder, she said, “Silly man, Ma don’t need me. You do.”

Sarra was practically bouncing with joy even as tears started streaming down her face. Taking Daine’s hand in her left and Numair’s in her right, she grinned, “I’m glad you made the right choice, baby.”

“But-” Numair tried to argue, though he couldn’t fathom why when his chest felt like it was about to burst from the joy that was consuming him. “Daine, I-”

“Oh, hush, you silly thing you,” said Sarra.

Weiryn stepped forward for the sole purpose of glaring at Numair, “Yes, fool. Stop questioning my daughter’s decision and be grateful.”

Numair had no words. He could only stand there in shock as The Mother Goddess stood and said, “As you wish, Weiryn’s Daughter.”

Then a sudden gust of wind carried him away.


	20. Where Peace Starts

A soft breeze danced in the branches of a weeping willow tree, creating a swaying curtain of green around him as he lay in the grass. The pain and exhaustion that had temporarily left him during his time in the Divine Realm returned with a vengeance.

To distract himself from the agony, he tried to organize his chaotic thoughts by placing them in a logical order. He and Daine were both alive, Uusoae was defeated. Daine had been given a choice to live in the Divine Realm or the Mortal Realm and, after some necessary interrogation, Daine had chosen to return to the Mortal Realm. Numair had been sent back. Daine was not there with him.

Fortunately for his sanity, a rustling in the brush brought his focus back to the reality around him. He could smell the pungent odor of acidic smoke and feel the brush of phantom magics against his skin, all signs that pointed to him being placed somewhere near the Port Legann battlefield. Even though the sounds of fighting were gone, he wondered if it were not some desperate straggler who would be heralded the world over for being the one to kill the famous Black Mage where no one else could.

Then he heard a familiar whistle.

“Kitten,” he breathed in relief.

The name was followed by a joyful trill and a reptilian face invading his vision. He hissed in pain as the dragonet threatened to crush his chest under her slight weight. Luckily, Kitten quickly scurried away from him with a soft mutter of contrition.

 _He is here!_ bellowed a familiar mind-voice. That belonging to Kitten’s birthfather.

“Goddess be good! You fool!” said Alanna and Numair felt another weight lift off his chest. At least one friend was relatively unharmed. Though it was hard to say if he was still relieved when her flame-framed face appeared above him with a glare that could have killed a stone. “Where in the blazes have you been! Here we are, battling endless immortals and you’re nowhere to be found!”

“I was busy,” Numair replied, half-grunting in pain.

Alanna’s gaze softened and she knelt to place her hand on his forehead. Her magic flowed through him but her concentration was split between healing his aches and muttering under her breath about idiot mages who damn-near drain themselves to death.

He interrupted her tirade to ask after Daine and Alanna let out a long sigh, “I haven’t seen her since she went tearing off after Ozorne. Did you have to teach her your recklessness along with everything else?”

“She’s got to be here somewhere,” he argued against Alanna’s unspoken fears.

“Numair-” she started on another sigh, about to prepare him for the worst but he cut her off.

“She wanted to come back.”

Alanna frowned and pulled her hand away from him, “What are you talking about?”

“She told Mithros she wanted to come back. There’s no way she isn’t around here somewhere. Gods HAVE to honor mortal choices.”

A sudden determination had him standing up and ignoring the way the world tried to throw him off, “We have to find her. After everything, I’ll be damned if I’ll let her go to the Black God without convincing her to marry me first.”

“Well, you’re full of yourself ain’t ya?” came a familiar voice from somewhere nearby, “At this point, I’ve got half a mind to murder you instead of marry you.”

Numair spun toward Daine’s voice and nearly paid dearly for it before her form slammed into him, pressing him into the trunk of the willow tree so that he lost the air in his lungs. When he recovered, he groaned. “Damnit Daine, that hurt.”

Any further groaning was lost when she pressed her lips to his. The taste, the feel of her, nearly consumed him in the flames of relief and passion until he forgot about everything else.

Somewhere in the periphery, he heard Alanna tell Kitten to give her parents a few moments alone followed by a happy whistle and the rustling of leaves. It wasn’t enough to completely break Numair from the haze but enough to make him pull back from Daine and murmur, “We shouldn’t linger. There could be enemies around.”

“All Ozorne’s immortals were sent back to the Divine Realm. That’s why it took me a bit to follow you back. I didn’t want to leave things half-finished.”

Numair raised an eyebrow at her, “And those immortals not aligned with him?”

She looked sheepish for a moment, “I asked if they could stay. I think, after all they’ve done, they deserved to choose as much as me.”

If that wasn’t a mood killer, he didn’t know what was, “Daine, why did you choose to come back? Please tell me it wasn’t just for me.” He closed his eyes and sagged against the bark. How could he explain how he felt? There were very few words available to convey everything she had given up to remain by his side.

Daine cut through his thoughts like a red-hot knife, “I’m not gonna marry you.”

“What?” he asked, gapping at her because he couldn’t even begin to fathom her thought process.

She raised her stubborn chin, “I’m not going to marry you. I didn’t come back here just for you, you know. I like my life here, getting to be with you is just a bonus.”

Despite himself, he laughed, “A bonus? No wonder you won’t marry me.”

The beguiling smile she turned on him could have broken any man, “Oh, don’t lose hope, silly man. Maybe I’ll marry someday. I mean, you’ve got a lifetime to convince me.”

“Maybe he could get right on that as soon as we’ve cleaned up this mess!” Alanna called, a thickness to her voice she would have never admitted to in a million years.

“Right,” said Daine and moved to sling Numair’s arm over her shoulder and help him out from under of the shade of the willow, “Let’s go start living in peace.”

He chuckled, “As you wish, magelet.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I finally got everything up. Hope you all enjoyed the ride!


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